


Digital Mortality

by Chaostructure



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Combat, Corporate corruption, Cyberpunk Tech, Dark, Ethics Surrounding Technology, Gen, Sixth Day Cloning Tech
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaostructure/pseuds/Chaostructure
Summary: Competitors in the Apex Games go through a process in which a digital copy of their consciousness is created, to be imprinted in a cloned body should they be killed in the arena. The corporation that pioneered the technology and sponsors the Games has used their inventions and influence in the lives of individuals in harmful ways, driving them to become competitors in the Apex Games and learn for themselves how the tech - and its creators - function.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter One

_The calm of the vibrant green grass and blue water around them clashed with the deep crimson and pained gasps that came from the figure lying on the ground. As they surveyed their teammate’s injuries, Bloodhound was keenly aware of the environment around them-- the gentle wind, the stillness after the surrounding wildlife had fled the site of the battle. Hands and forearms stained red, struggling to hold closed the gaping wounds torn through the other fighter’s chest and abdomen by shrapnel, the hunter remained vigilant. They would be alert to disruptions in the movement of the grass or air-- tiny changes that would give away the position of an approaching enemy._

_The tracker already knew that only they would make it out of this fight. The damage to Mirage’s body was too extensive to be managed by superficial treatment with the resources that they had available. An injection from one of the syringes that were distributed around the arena would create synthetic fibers of muscle, layers of skin, whatever tissue was needed to hold a damaged body together-- unfortunately, neither of them had any syringes at the moment. There was nothing for Bloodhound to do but wait patiently with their teammate until the end came._

_Even though all competitors would be brought back after the match - even though there was a good chance that, this early in, they’d be able to bring Mirage back into the game - their personal honor code wouldn’t allow them to run off and leave their friend to suffer alone._

_“Hey, don’t-- don’t let me do this… again.”_

_Mirage gasped for breath, struggling to get the words out. It took too much effort to suck in each breath, to move his jaw, to keep repositioning his lips and tongue in order to facilitate speech. The fighter, known for his flamboyance, had become slow and dull as the life drained from his body._

_“The Games… not worth the fame… or glory. Remind me--”_

_Behind their mask, the corners of Bloodhound’s mouth pulled upward in a slight smile. “How many times do you suppose you've said those words before,_ felagi _fighter? This situation, this pain-- do not last forever. You will return to the arena, eager to prove yourself again.”_

_Whatever Mirage planned to say in response, his lungs were unable to find the breath to force the words out. He coughed and gasped weakly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His grip on Bloodhound’s arm weakened and relaxed, and his body stopped moving entirely, finally as still as the air around him._

_Head bowed, Bloodhound gently folded their fallen teammate’s arms over his chest. They said a quick prayer to the Allfather as they searched through Mirage’s pockets for the data card that would bring him back to life. Within a few seconds, their fingers closed around it: a digital storage device barely larger than their thumb. Their teammate’s consciousness, soul_ \-- _the digital copy that would return him from death, Bloodhound now held in a satchel strapped across their chest. The hunter turned away and ran, moving swiftly from cover to cover, the sharp electrical crackle of the Ring closing in behind them._

* * *

Before the Apex Games could begin, contestants were brought to a staging facility for processing. The human participants of the Games could expect to spend six hours there-- up to eight, if something didn't move along smoothly. 

The beginning of the procedure was simple enough - a nurse did a basic physical examination to ensure that they were healthy before entering the arena. After that, they were moved to another room, where a technician drew two vials of blood. Following that was the most time-consuming part of the process: the contestant would lay in a metal tube, while a machine around them hummed and whirred and crackled with electricity. The machine measured every tiny electrical impulse transmitted through the body’s nervous system, between each neuron in the brain, and even those electrical and chemical signals used by individual bodily cells to communicate with one another. 

That information - a copy of the person’s life force, their thoughts, their very consciousness - was stored as a digital file. One copy of the file was stored at Headquarters for use by the Apex Games biomedical team. The other was uploaded to a portable drive that the contestant carried with them through the competition. 

Those portable drives had come to be nicknamed “banner cards” by participants out in the field, as the fighters tended to tape a photo of themselves over the flat part of the drive. To the technicians who facilitated the process of bringing back a dead competitor, the file format of a consciousness was termed a syncording. Everyone - technician and fighter both - thought about what would happen if something ever went wrong with the syncording. Would a competitor killed in combat come back as a completely different person? Would they be stuck in a vegetative state? Or would they simply… remain _dead?_ It was on many minds before a game, but no one dared speak those concerns out loud. Issues with the syncording were unheard of-- so why jinx it?

Androids, as one might expect, required much less processing than human contestants. The electrical imprint of their consciousness was easier to download, and their bodies could be replicated without DNA on file. As such, Revenant wasn't needed anywhere in particular and was wandering around the staging area, observing the other competitors for slight weaknesses-- and trying to avoid Pathfinder’s mindless chatter.

Beyond the pane of thick, bulletproof glass and textured steel sheet metal that separated areas of the staging facility, Mirage glanced nervously at the needle used to draw blood, then tried to cover up his phobia by flirting with the technician. Octane paced back and forth, pausing to speak here and there-- telling the staff to hurry up so he could get going, if his body language was any indication. Crypto was hunched, hands in his pockets, trying to appear small as he kept to himself. Caustic had swiped something from an unattended cabinet while the technicians were distracted by Octane’s antics.

No layperson would describe the competitors of the Apex Games - people who were willing to literally die in combat for sport - as _weak_. Revenant begged to differ. Those who died in the Games would be brought back in a cloned body, printed cell by cell and free of any injury or ailment they may have suffered over the course of the battle. Their last memory would be of the staging-- of having their syncording taken. They would have no memory of the intermingled smells of gunpowder and blood, of the pain, or of how it felt to die.

Revenant was alone in that he remembered. 

He was well aware of how it felt to lose energy little by little as the blood drained from his body - surprisingly warm on his skin - until he could no longer move-- no longer hold a coherent thought in his head, and his vision was going black. He knew the cold that accompanied the feeling... Deep cold, through to the core, not like the sharp bite of winter air on the surface of one’s skin. 

He knew how it felt when cold steel pierced between his ribs, the scrape of the knife against the bone, the breath forced out of his chest with a sharp twist and an explosion of intense pain. And to be resurrected, phantom pain from the deathly injuries wracking the newly cloned and printed body as a corporate executive in an expensive suit and tie said, _“Nothing wrong with you. Get back out there and keep fighting…”_

These fools may have died in the Games dozens of times, but they had no _understanding_ of death.

The irony was that despite being forced to live - if his existence could be called that - with these memories, Revenant had no skin to slice open. He had no blood to bleed, no bones to crush. Those were phantom sensations that had never really happened. He'd never had human body parts, but he knew exactly how it _felt_ to have them.

_And humans are_ **_weak_ ** _._ He hadn't been able to understand why he never felt right as a human. No matter how hard he'd worked on physical fitness, his body felt… off, somehow. That didn't even begin to touch on his self-image or social role as a human. Now that he knew he was a machine, he wondered how he hadn't figured it out sooner.

Sometimes, in the back of his processor, Revenant did wonder where those memories had come from. Were they of damage that his true, mechanical form had sustained, modified to appear on a human body in his mind? Or were those the memories of a real human he'd never meet, uploaded and merged with his own consciousness via the syncording technology? 

In the ranks of the Games, where resurrection and syncording were most frequently performed, he was searching for answers.

Until he found them, he'd settle for kills.

The last of the processing was finished, and the competitors began boarding the drop ship. They still had a long flight ahead of them to the arena. Revenant hung back, hidden by the shadow in a poorly illuminated corner. He preferred to be at the back of the line, where he could watch everyone. Octane and Mirage raced past him to the ship, clowning around and shoving each other. Revenant let out a low growl. Those two fools-- easily distracted and devoid of any discipline. He barely considered them worthy opponents. What administrative pencil-pusher had allowed them into the Apex Games?

“You underestimate them. They are stronger than they appear.”

In an instant, Revenant spun towards the voice, head lowered and right leg sliding back into a combat stance, a mechanical whirr as his hand reconfigured into a stabbing weapon. A masked figure stood next to him with their arms folded neatly over their chest-- not even a flinch at his aggressive reaction.

How the _fuck_ had Bloodhound crept up next to him without him knowing? He'd have to keep a close watch on this one.

“Do _not_ test me. You may not fear death, _Legend--_ but you will fear _pain,_ when I am the one to inflict it. I promise you that.”

Bloodhound tilted their head, arms lowering to a more relaxed position at their sides.

“Hmmm. I see.”

They turned and walked away to board the ship with graceful movement and relaxed posture. Clearly Revenant’s threat hadn't fazed them at all.

  
The assassin watched them for a moment, then moved from his position in the dim lighting to board the ship as well. His footsteps were silent, well-practiced in concealing himself-- until he _wanted_ his enemies to know of his presence.


	2. Chapter Two

Even with the advanced technology available to the hosts and competitors of the Apex Games, space travel could be frustrating. Data hub connectivity on space flights was unreliable, leading to dropped telecommunications and constant interruptions to any sort of streamed entertainment. Living conditions aboard the ship were cramped-- each contestant had a small room to themselves, arranged in a circular pattern around an open common area, a kitchen, and a couple of bathrooms. Furniture was affixed to the floor and couldn’t be moved. Beds were small, built into the walls, and came with uncomfortably stiff mattresses. 

The experience was already taxing, and Octane always managed to make it more so. The other Legends were in unanimous agreement: he was the _worst_ roommate.

At all hours, it seemed, the daredevil had hard rock or heavy metal music blaring from his room. An action movie of some sort played on one of his screens, race cars zoomed around a track on another, and he had a video game running on a third-- all at max volume. On top of that, he had a tendency to jump around and shout as he played his game, whether he was winning or losing.

Caustic rolled his eyes and slammed the door to Octane’s room closed as he walked past on his way from the common area to his own quarters. The adrenaline junkie’s multimedia entertainment setup could still be heard from every part of the ship.

Preferring quiet and solitude, Crypto spent the vast majority of the journey in his own quarters. Rugs and cardboard were adhered to as much surface area of the inner wall as he could manage, which helped to damp the noise from the other competitors. 

As they made the journey to the arena, the hacker sat cross-legged on the corner of his bed, reviewing the footage from the previous match-- both that which had aired to the audience, and that which his drone had recorded. Since competitors eliminated in the Apex Games were brought back to life with no memory of the match, it was up to them to study replays of their performances to learn from their mistakes, as well as the weaknesses of their opponents. More than that, Crypto was searching for information on the corporate sponsor that had developed the technology which made the Games possible. He needed a better understanding of what he was up against if he was ever going to find his sister…

The manipulation of various electromagnetic waves beyond the confines of the Ring gave the surrounding environment an orange tint. Prolonged exposure to the non-ionizing radiation caused heating within the body, leading to serious internal burns with little or no visible external damage-- it was a nasty piece of work. The hacker had to wonder, on more than one occasion, how someone as kind-natured as Wattson could design such a device. 

The Ring would damage and destroy most electronic devices, too, but Crypto’s drone was shielded from electromagnetic energy. It had to be, to set off an EMP without “frying” its own circuitry. Therefore he could use the drone to examine anything going on outside of the Ring, and there’d be no interference to its function. In doing so, he had learned that technicians patrolled outside of the Ring, wearing protective wire-mesh suits, to maintain the arena. They removed weapons that hadn’t been claimed, and handled the disposal of dead bodies throughout the bloodsport. 

Those technicians had a tendency to just… _disappear_ from the arena at any given time. 

Crypto suspected that the corporation maintained some kind of facility underneath the arena. He was determined to find its entrance. To the frequent displeasure of his teammates, he would spend prolonged stretches of time piloting the drone through the danger zone, watching the technicians and attempting to determine where they were entering their underground staging area.

So far his search had come up empty-handed. Wherever the technicians went, it was beyond the range from which he could maintain the neural link with his drone. Hopefully in the last match, that had finally changed…

_“Jenjang!”_

The hacker punched his pillow in frustration. As usual, the footage from his drone didn’t show where the technicians had gone. They were specks in the distance, beyond where the drone could follow-- the image was distorted, cut with static, and the figures would be gone.

He needed to increase the quality of the images and videos recorded by the drone, or figure out a way to extend the reach of the signal so that it could travel further. There was nothing Crypto could do about that right now, unfortunately-- it was a problem for another day. He put the drone on its charger and lay down on his bed. As much as he'd rather keep looking for information that could help him find his sister, the hacker knew that it was in his own best interest to get some rest before the match. Once he was in the arena, there'd be very little time that wasn't spent running.

* * *

Crypto’s eyes snapped open, his body alerted to the presence of a mechanical clicking and whirring that, while subtle, should _not_ have been there. The hacker sat up abruptly, hands raised in a defensive position. 

“Get out of here.”

Revenant stood at the desk in the corner, hunched over Crypto’s laptop. The assassin turned his head slowly, body posed in a predatory stance, like he was ready to pounce. His optic sensors glowed a menacing orange in the dimly lit room. His clawed hand reached out and slammed the lid to the laptop shut--

...and just like that, Revenant was gone. His physical form had dispersed, melted into the shadows.

The hacker let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The laptop was closed, and the air around him was still. The room certainly couldn’t be called quiet with Octane’s music still blaring, but there was no unusual sound. It was as though the simulacrum hadn’t been there.

Crypto opened the laptop and tapped the power button. His login screen came up, as usual. He entered his password and pulled up a log of recent activity on the computer. It revealed nothing new-- no evidence that Revenant had tampered with it at all. 

Could the occurrence have been some kind of strange dream? Crypto returned his laptop to the lock screen and folded it closed. With a soft groan, he lay back down on the bed and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Shortly after, he opened them once again to stare at the ceiling. Revenant had been standing in his quarters-- he was absolutely certain of it. That murderous android could move silently, and surely knew how to bypass the less-than-impressive locks on the cabin doors…

He checked the time. Following that experience, the programmer figured he wasn’t going to get back to sleep any time soon… Wouldn’t be meaningful rest anyway, not with the time they had left until they reached the arena _._ After a quick glance at his drone to ensure that it was properly plugged in and charging, Crypto slid his door open and stepped out into the common area.

* * *

“Whoa, hey, go easy on the peppers there, big guy! You're ruining the pork chops!”

Mirage stood in the kitchen, glaring at Gibraltar across a sizzling pan of meat. A deep laugh echoed through the common room. “You gotta be wide awake for the game, my brother! Hot, spicy bowl of food’ll clear your head for a clean start!”

Crypto glanced around the room. Pathfinder stood in the kitchen, where he wore a frilly pink apron and stirred a soup pot, artificial vocal processor humming a tune as Mirage and Gibraltar argued. Wattson was sprawled out on the floor, noise-canceling headphones over her ears, reading a book on particle physics. Bangalore sat at the table, timing how fast she could disassemble and assemble a rifle-- despite not being allowed to bring her own firearm into the arena. Wraith was seated at the opposite end of the table, watching the Apex Undercard match on a portable television.

Revenant was nowhere to be seen.

The hacker glanced up at the ceiling, where he imagined that the AI piloting the ship looked down at them from. “Artemis, where is Revenant?”

The cool, feminine voice came back, “You know I can’t just answer that, Crypto. Do you have a security override code?”

Crypto shook his head. He did, in fact, though he wasn’t _supposed_ to-- which meant that he couldn’t reveal it, not with the other competitors surrounding him on board a small spacecraft that was heavily monitored by the corporation. 

A commotion in the kitchen caught the programmer’s attention.

“Aah! Path, that is a co-- copu-- _copiscuous?_ amount... Whatever. It’s way too much salt! Why are you even _in_ the kitchen? You’re a robot! You don’t eat.”

A pot clattered to the floor as Mirage rushed to grab the salt shaker away from Pathfinder. The sound didn’t seem as loud as it should, over the everlasting cacophony that blared from Octane’s quarters.

“Many of my friends are human. I love making food to share with my friends!” 

The screen covering the front of the robot’s chest displayed a smiling emoji. Mirage groaned and made an overly animated display of bringing his palm to his forehead.

Crypto couldn’t help but smile as he took a seat at the table. His fellow Legends were… something else.

He looked at the small portable screen on which Wraith was watching the games that preceded theirs. The Apex Undercard tended to be more brutal, more chaotic, less skillful or strategic-- competitors in those games were often persons considered undesirable in society, perhaps prisoners competing for the reward of a reduced sentence. Participants who were killed fighting in the Undercard arena weren’t always guaranteed to be brought back. Crypto said a silent prayer to no deity in particular that he wouldn’t see his missing sister in the Undercard games.

Wraith glanced briefly in his direction. When she saw that he was watching, she tilted the screen so he could get a better look. The Undercard was down to the top five. They were playing in a format that involved single competitors rather than teams, and the camera was following a dark figure - either a robot, or clad in high-tech armor - through the battlefield. According to the stats displayed across the bottom of the screen, the competitor was known as Sparrow, and he was the kill leader with fifteen eliminations. 

Wraith smiled. “Hey, Bloodhound. You ought to like this guy… He named himself after a bird.”

Crypto looked around, confused. Sure enough, Bloodhound was standing several feet behind them in a corner of the room, also watching Wraith’s portable television. How had the hacker missed that when he'd first entered the common area? 

No matter how many times he’d seen Bloodhound do this, he still didn’t understand how the hunter could move so silently, or stand so still as to be unnoticed for extended periods of time. It was a skill that they had mastered, for sure. They answered Wraith’s remark with a wave of their hand, a gesture which indicated that they’d heard the statement but did little to show whether or not they agreed.

Wraith leaned back in her chair and tilted her head to see into the kitchen. “How's the food coming along, boys? It'd be nice if we can take our time and eat before the game starts this time.”

Mirage replied, “Hey, hey, you can't rush perfection!”

“Hmmm. Your cooking isn't bad, Witt, but calling it _perfection_ is going too far.

Wraith smirked.

Mirage blew a raspberry.

The casters of the game on Wraith’s mini-television began shouting and cheering wildly. Sparrow had won the Undercard game with seventeen kills, his final elimination being a particularly brutal maneuver in which he’d caught his opponent’s finger in the trigger guard of their rifle and torn it off, disarming them after his own weapon had run out of ammo.

“Huh. That was something,” Wraith remarked as she stowed the antenna and put the portable television away. 

“Well, on that note, dinner is served,” Gibraltar announced with a mighty bellow. Mirage pranced in with a heaping platter of pork chops, which he sat in the center of the table. Gibraltar followed with a pot of stew, and Pathfinder brought over the trenchers and utensils. 

“About time,” said Wraith as she heaped some food onto a trencher.

Mirage grabbed one of the pork chops off the platter and took a bite. “Man, the induction cooking on these spaceships is _atrocious_. These taste so much better when they're cooked over a proper charcoal grill!” 

With a dissatisfied sigh, he plopped down into one of the chairs near the end of the table, legs stretched out and back slouched. Bangalore cast an unimpressed glance at his poor posture, but said nothing. 

Lifeline walked into the common room, pulling Octane along by the crook of his elbow. “Silva, ya need to eat. Ya need all yer’ strength to make it through the Games!” 

“Aw, but can’t I just finish one more level? Just one? I’m almost to a new high score,” the daredevil protested loudly. Nevertheless, he allowed Lifeline to tug him along, and took a seat at the table. 

Just as Crypto had dished up his food and opened his mouth to take a bite, an alarm blared from the ship. Artemis, the ship’s AI, spoke: “Attention, Legends! We are approaching the arena. Gather your gear and be ready to drop in twenty minutes.”

Several voices around the table groaned and muttered quiet complaints. 

_“This always happens…”_

_“Never enough time to enjoy a meal.”_

_“We weren’t supposed to be there for another hour, at least!”_

“Why, thank you for noticing that I’ve made _excellent_ time this trip,” the AI said, a little too proudly for a computer. 

Bangalore nodded in approval. 

Crypto hastily stuffed a pork chop in his mouth and walked towards his quarters to retrieve his drone and double-check that he had everything else he’d need in the Games.


	3. Chapter Three

As the drop ship neared the arena, the competitors walked in single file down a flight of stairs into a sparsely illuminated metal expanse. Numbered hydraulic cylinders going from floor to ceiling marked the platforms on which each team would stand once the contestants were assigned to their teams. 

The screen upon which the teams would be displayed came to life as Caustic made his way to the bottom of the staircase, filling the belly of the ship with white light. Octane made a frustrated noise as he held up his hand to shield his face from the sudden luminance. 

“Out of my way,” Caustic growled as he pushed past Octane. The daredevil made an indignant noise in the back of his throat and went to shove Caustic in return, but the chemist had already moved too far away. Octane briefly considered chasing him -  _ nah, that would be too easy _ \- but opted to simply flip a particular finger in his direction instead.

“Man, why don’t we ever get to finish our dinner before we drop in?” Mirage grumbled.

Bangalore scoffed. “Do you cook too slow, or do you eat too slow?”

“I have a better question,” Wattson piped up. “If our syncordings are taken before we board the ship, how do we remember whether we’ve eaten dinner before?”

Several heads turned to give her uneasy looks. Mirage promptly stuck his fingers in his ears. “La-la-la I don’t want to hear about the cloning stuff before a game! It’s bad luck!”

Wattson realized that she had brought up the taboo topic and backed up as far as she could, hiding her face behind her hands.

Wraith elbowed Mirage in the ribs. “Not superstitious, are you?”

Mirage quickly put his hands down. “Uh… Nope!” 

Three long, low beeps sounded, drawing the attention of the Legends and indicating that the teams were about to be designated. Octane looked directly into the front-left corner, where the competitors knew that a camera was recording their reactions for the audience, and gave the metal-horns sign. 

Crypto, meanwhile, stood further back and pulled up the collar of his jacket to obstruct his face as much as possible. He realized, from what Wattson had said, that there must be other cameras all over the ship that the competitors  _ didn’t  _ know about. The ship’s AI must record every moment they spent on board, to be added to their syncording data later. How much of his life was monitored by the corporation?

It was a strange thing, hiding in plain sight as a celebrity. He was safe here-- the corporation would never look for Park Tae-joon in the Apex Games, since that was exactly where they  _ wanted _ him. Under their control, in a place where they could utilize his skills, then dispose of him, only to bring him back if they needed him again in an endless cycle. With his false identity, he could hide out in the last place he’d be looked for, under his own terms.

Even so, the fame and the spotlight made him uneasy.

The Legends shuffled to allow a path to the descending platforms, as the first team had been assigned:

  
  
1\. MIRAGE

2\. BANGALORE

3\. LIFELINE

Mirage grinned at the screen. “Oh-ho, that’s right! I’m leading the team this time, and who has to listen to me? You do, Williams. That’s right!” 

One of his holograms flickered into existence just long enough to give him a high five before it vanished again. Bangalore made a disgusted noise as she followed Mirage to the platform, shaking her head. 

“See ya’ on the battlefield, Silva. Play it safe-- I know you won’t.” Lifeline winked and waved at her friend, then joined her teammates at a brisk pace. The platform began to descend.

4\. BLOODHOUND

5\. CRYPTO

_ So far, so good, _ Crypto thought. Bloodhound was level-headed as a team leader, while quiet and solitary enough to stay out of the hacker’s business.

6\.  REVENANT

_ That, _ on the other hand, was... less than thrilling. Aside from his encounter earlier, Revenant had only one agenda on his artificial mind: his own, and he wasn’t above letting his teammates die if he perceived that they’d interfered with it. As far as Crypto - and all of the other competitors he’d talked to - were concerned, the opposite of  _ teamwork _ was  _ Revenant. _

Was the predictive algorithm he’d discovered - the one that had gotten him into this mess - stacking the odds against him this time-- favoring him to lose? Then again, despite the dissent sowed in his path, Revenant didn’t have a bad win/loss record in the Games.

“Let’s go,” said Bloodhound, giving Crypto a tap on the shoulder. The two of them made their way to the platform. Revenant was already there, pacing back and forth. As Bloodhound and Crypto moved closer, Revenant stood still in position on the right side of the platform-- eerily, unnaturally still. Crypto stepped onto the left side, and Bloodhound took their position in the center. 

Artemis’s voice came over their commlinks: “Descending.”

The hydraulic cylinders whirred to life, and the platform began to lower.

Solace had a low enough atmospheric density that the competitors could comfortably stand on the platform as the ship flew over the arena. The three of them had their mini-computers out, syncing commlinks and location data for their team. 

Bloodhound brought a map of the arena onto the touch-screen, and tapped on a location. A yellow dot appeared. Within a quarter of a second, it had appeared on their teammates’ screens as well. 

“We should go here.”

They’d marked a grouping of smaller buildings near a watchtower. The location made strategic and tactical sense-- the team could gather loot uninterrupted, then take control of the watchtower and hold that position as they waited to see which way the Ring would force them. 

Crypto nodded. Revenant gave a dismissive grunt. 

“Jump on my mark,” Bloodhound commanded. As the ship drew closer, they stowed their mini-computers. 

“Three… two… one… Jump.” 

In the lower gravity and density of the air around them, the competitors felt merely a gentle breeze flowing over them during their free-fall. The propulsion packs that Hammond Robotics had provided them with allowed them to travel surprisingly long distances through the air by charging and exciting particles in their wake. The devices also provided the contestants with excellent control of their descent, and they each landed gently on their feet in front of the small building marked on their mini-computers.

“Wait,” Bloodhound commanded before their teammates could spread out. The hunter reached into one of the leather pouches slung across their chest and pulled out a familiar data chip, which they held up for the others to see. “Bring out your banner cards. Show each of us where you keep them, so that we need not search your body for long should you fall in combat.” 

They returned the data card to the pouch, and gave the others an encouraging nod.

Crypto slid his hand into the inner left pocket of his jacket and retrieved his syncording. He watched Bloodhound and Revenant’s faces, ensuring that they had seen it before he returned it. Revenant followed in turn, pulling the data card out of a hip pouch between two slender fingers. The simulacrum returned the chip, turned, and walked away from his teammates.

“Search the area, see what you can find. We will convene at the tower in two microcycles.” As they gave the instruction, Bloodhound brought up the map on their mini-computer and tapped the nearby watchtower, transmitting the indicated location to the others.

Shortly after the team had spread out, the hunter’s voice came over the commlink: “Let me know if you have a preference for a weapon. I will keep on the lookout for it.” 

_ How are we supposed to develop a weapon preference,  _ Crypto thought,  _ if they erase our memories of the matches every time we play them? _

“Something made for close range,” Revenant growled into the commlink. “I like to see the fear in my enemies’ eyes as I extinguish the life from them.”

Crypto rolled his eyes. Clearly the simulacrum didn’t share his particular problem-- though he could list several  _ other _ problems that he had with Revenant.

Bloodhound’s reply was simple, calm and collected as ever: “I see. As you wish.”


	4. Chapter Four

The early moments of a match in the arena were tense and restless. The competitors scrambled to find basic gear - a weapon, body armor, a backpack - as quickly as possible, then they established a perimeter. Once that was done, each team would hold their position until the movement of the Ring was indicated on their mini-computers. 

The size of the arena was large enough that teams seldom crossed paths before the Ring started moving, though the possibility could never be entirely ruled out-- and there were the threats of the natural environment to consider.The lower gravity of the planet meant that structure collapses were less likely to be fatal, but also that instabilities in the ground upon which they were built were more likely. Solace also supported a wide variety of hostile wildlife, which hadn’t been fully removed from the arena since Crypto had destroyed the repulsor tower. It seemed that a competitor getting mauled by a carnivorous reptile over the course of the Games would generate profitable viewership for the corporation that hosted them.

Several insects flew by overhead. Though they could be large and startling, they didn't bother the contestants-- they had little interest in anything that humans or robots had to offer. Once in a while, a shape moving through the air at high speed would be noticeably rounder and smoother than the others, with a quieter, steadier hum to it: a camera drone, broadcasting footage of the Apex Games to its many viewers. 

Revenant had little patience for this idle period. He was determined - bound by his function - to locate enemies and start killing. It was his purpose, and just as a human might feel for companionship, he felt the intense need to carry it out. 

He had to do  _ something. _ It was intolerable not to-- so the assassin aimed his Flatline at one of the camera drones and shot it down. Oh, the executives at Hammond Robotics who sponsored the Games would be frustrated at the waste of their precious currency…

The defunct drone fell out of the sky and landed near Bloodhound’s feet. The hunter frowned behind their goggles. “ _ Felagi _ fighter, I would rather our position not be given away so soon.”

Revenant’s optics glowered in Bloodhound’s direction for a moment. Then he turned away to walk the perimeter of the watchtower. Pathetic humans, they infuriated him. They were brought into existence as useless, dependent creatures, created only because their parents found the activities leading up to it  _ fun. _ They lived without a sense of purpose, and had the unmitigated arrogance to think that it made them  _ better _ in some way.

He had been programmed, for more than one hundred years, to believe that he was human. Over fifty separate “human” lives-- not a single one of them had felt  _ right. _ He'd carried that directive - that need to fulfill his function - into each of them, and had never met a human who could comprehend it. 

Instead of a directive, the skin-bags were brought into existence with a drive to seek the company of others like them. Being sentient, Revenant  _ was _ capable of emotion -  _ anger _ was one that he frequently had in common with the humans - but that sense of connection to others was one that he just could  _ not _ figure out. It was something he'd been expected to do in each of his “lives,” and it had felt deeply and intrinsically wrong every time. 

What brought warmth and comfort to the humans never failed to give him an intense feeling of confinement.

It explained _so much_ that he was a machine. He'd been deceived into believing that he'd failed at being human, over and over again. The assassin hadn't failed at anything-- in fact, he was damn good at his function.

_ Better than any of those worthless skin-suits could ever hope to be. How dare they try to convince me that I was less… _

Bloodhound didn't understand, of course. Humans never did. Their kind fancied themselves superior, but as far as Revenant was concerned, their lack of directive and need to form a bond with others were  _ limitations--  _ not advantages.

Back and forth the simulacrum paced along the perimeter that the team held, monitoring for any changes. He would never lose focus or interest, nor become tired or sloppy. He could hold this position and carry out this task for years if he needed to. 

As was to be expected, no one disturbed them in the position they were holding. Teams were too spread from each other for a fight to break out this early in the match. The corporation dictated the pace of the game, using the movement of the Ring to build suspense or sow chaos when they saw fit.

It had been about fifteen minutes from the initial drop when the announcer's voice sounded around the arena: “Round one. Beginning Ring countdown.”

Crypto pulled out his mini-computer to look at the map. The Ring was pulling north of their current position, towards the Pit. The team had a hike ahead of them. 

The hacker looked up at Bloodhound. “Do you have a plan?”

“We will move to the edge of the arena, here.” The hunter drew a path on the touch screen with their finger, which appeared on the others’ mini-computers as a thin yellow line. “Keeping to the perimeter, it will be harder for another team to flank us. We can rotate to the Ring that way.”

“ _ Gidalyeo _ \-- I’ll scout our path ahead.” 

Crypto pulled out his drone from its holster, his other hand activating the flight controls as a smooth, unified movement. It took a moment to get his bearings as the neurolink activated and the camera began feeding information directly into his brain-- these days, he was used to the strange sensation, and was able to regain his sense of direction with the drone within a second or two. 

Revenant was already on the move, agreeable to the team plan but not interested in following orders or staying grouped with the others. The drone passed by the assassin and made its way along the inner perimeter of the arena as Bloodhound had indicated. Crypto was searching for anything that might be a threat-- another team, unstable ground to cross, poisonous plants and wild animals that lived around the terrain. At the same time, he kept a watchful eye open for anything that felt out of place, which might lead him to the underground area that he was certain was beneath the arena.

He didn't see any flyers so far. He hoped it would stay that way-- the airborne reptiles were known to be aggressive toward competitors, among other things in their territory. The programmer did see a spider the size of his hand making its way up the outside of a building, which startled him. Annoying though it was, the spider wouldn’t interfere with their passing through the area.

“All clear,” he said to Bloodhound. He sent a command for the drone to return to his position, then disengaged from the neurolink. As he and Bloodhound made their way down the watchtower onto the marsh below, the drone returned to his hand. He put it safely away in its holster.

They didn't have a line of sight on Revenant through the trees and shrubbery. Once in a while, Bloodhound would check their teammate’s position on the mini-computer. The assassin was a way ahead of them, but sticking to the path they’d outlined.

The pair came up to a weathered wooden building. Crypto pushed the door open and took a tentative step inside. In a corner, a spiky lizard about the length of his forearm was perched on top of a med kit.

“Shoo!”

He waved his hand in front of the lizard’s face. It took a step back, then bared its teeth and snarled.

“You should have more respect for nature,” said Bloodhound, an amused edge barely detectable in their modulated voice. “These creatures were here before you, and will remain here long after that body dies.”

The hunter stepped forward and slowly extended their arm towards the lizard, careful to avoid making eye contact with it. It glared at them for a moment, then climbed up onto their outstretched arm. With their other hand, Bloodhound picked up the med kit and handed it to Crypto before carrying the lizard outside. They set the reptile gently on a low-hanging tree branch, and it scampered away.

“Thanks.”

Crypto slid the med kit into his backpack and kept moving. He didn’t care for wildlife, and he didn’t like this part of the arena. It felt like the ground itself was fighting him, sinking under his boots as brambles scratched his legs. Prior to the Apex Games, he’d spent his life in a crowded city, and preferred the solid feel of concrete and steel around him. 

The distant electrical crackling and sparking of the Ring reminded him to keep a steady pace. Though Bloodhound was clearly more comfortable in the overgrown environment, he did his best not to fall behind his companion. 

Another spider larger than his clenched fist darted across a supply bin as he reached to open it. The hacker jumped backward and swore loudly. Bloodhound paused briefly, then kept moving. Crypto was grateful that they kept to themself, and Revenant never seemed to want to be near his teammates-- if Mirage or Octane, or even Bangalore, had seen him startled by a spider, they’d annoy him with an onslaught of teases. He preferred not to be the center of attention.

In his struggle to cross the wild ground, it took him too long to notice that Bloodhound had stopped moving. The tracker was performing their strange trick in which they stood perfectly, unnervingly still to blend in with their surroundings. Crypto slammed face-first into their back.

“Down,” the hunter commanded. They pushed Crypto to the ground and dove down next to him, just in time for the talons of a flyer to pass over them. The animal let out an ear-splitting shriek as it landed on the ground several feet away. 

Bloodhound rose to one knee, Triple Take in their hands. They took aim at the monster and fired. The spread of projectiles penetrated its neck in a neat row, and it let out another screech. It swiped its clawed wing at the hunter, their shot having lodged in the flyer’s dense skin without causing serious damage.

Crypto had managed to get his feet under him, and as the creature’s claws cut through the air in front of him, he squeezed the trigger of his weapon. Its wing was peppered with bullets, and it staggered backward. The monster quickly found its bearings and took flight. The angle of aiming almost straight up presented a challenge, and as Crypto struggled with his weapon, the flyer lunged. 

Its claws tore into his shoulder as it tried to carry him away. Its wing had been damaged by the shots he’d put into it earlier, however; the creature lost its lift and tumbled to the ground. It lost its grip on Crypto’s shoulder, and he skidded along the ground until a tree a few feet away halted his momentum.

As the hacker struggled to his feet, he felt warm fluid running down his chest and arm. The wound that the massive reptile’s claws had inflicted in his shoulder was bleeding, heavily-- seeing as he hadn’t lost consciousness yet, it wasn’t the most immediate threat to his life, and would have to wait.

He emptied a magazine into the creature’s belly. Bullets pierced its flesh, but didn’t travel deep enough into its body to deliver a killing blow. The flyer howled and lunged at Crypto, mouth open wide and fangs at the ready. He scrambled away, as fast as his legs could carry him across the overgrown ground.

A well-aimed shot from Bloodhound’s Triple Take tore the scaly flesh on the side of the creature’s face. The damage done must have disrupted its vision, as its jaws snapped shut around empty air far to the right of Crypto. Its neck turned, infuriated face searching the ground for the source of this new pain.

The flyer screeched and reared back a final time before a shotgun blast exploded from its belly, spraying the monster’s blood and bits of its flesh across the ground and all over Crypto. He grimaced, and briefly wondered if it was time for him to start wearing a mask and goggles in the arena as Bloodhound did. The flyer collapsed on the ground in front of him, revealing the figure of Revenant, who put another blast into its head.

The orange light from the simulacrum’s optics appeared even more menacing in the relative darkness of the forest.

“Shame I don’t get to watch you two die,” Revenant grumbled. He turned and walked away, back in the direction that Bloodhound had originally plotted on the map.

Now shaking from the fading rush of adrenaline, it took Crypto longer than it should have to retrieve a syringe from his backpack. His fingers fumbled with the plastic box that protected it. Bloodhound crouched down next to him, and after looking the programmer over to ensure that he wasn’t hiding any more serious injuries, reached over and undid the latch.

The box popped open, allowing Crypto to inject the contents of the syringe into his forearm. The smart-polymer material went to work repairing the damage to his skin and other tissues, and the pain in his shoulder faded to a dull ache. It wasn’t long before even that subsided entirely.

“Thanks,” he said. He nudged the body of the flyer with his foot. “Those things shouldn’t be here.”

“This was their home,” Bloodhound replied. “It was destroyed to make way for a human settlement. When that failed, the corporation turned this land into an arena for the Apex Games. These beings’ lives and peace have been harmed forever by their… _ work _ , and continue to be disrespected by our presence here.”

“Don’t talk to me about the harm that the corporation has caused, as if you know something about it,” Revenant growled into the commlink. 

Bloodhound answered, “I was speaking to Crypto.”

“Then turn your commlink off.”

“I cannot do that, Revenant, if you will not stay nearer to the team.”

A shot from a sniper rifle rang out through the forest, the bullet lodging itself in a tree barely more than an inch from Bloodhound’s head.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combat. Gore. Death. You have been warned.

On instinctual reaction, Bloodhound and Crypto hit the ground and low-crawled through the dirt to the nearest cover: a boulder that had presumably fallen from the nearby cliffs some time prior. Another bullet glanced off the surface of the rock, barely missing Crypto’s arm before the hacker pulled it in, closer to his body.

“Is that a Sentinel?” 

Bloodhound shook their head in answer to Crypto’s question. “A Longbow. The time between the sound of the weapon, and the impact of the bullet, is too great for a Sentinel.”

The hunter peeked around the other side of the rock, through the scope of their rifle, and searched for the enemy sniper. “Northeast, somewhere-- I cannot see the exact position.”

“Cover me,” said Crypto. “I’ll see if I can spot them with my drone.” 

He took a fraction of a second to ensure that he was well-positioned behind cover, then unholstered the drone and activated the neural link.

Revenant’s voice came over the commlink: “I’ll draw them out.” 

“Negative. There is no need to take that risk. Crypto can locate the sniper.”

“Revenant, acknowledge.”

The commlink remained silent.

“ _ Fjandinn. _ Hold your position!”

Bloodhound had to pull out their mini-computer and glance at the map to locate the assassin. They noted his marker, then stowed the mini-computer and searched for their teammate on the field through the scope of their Triple Take. Revenant was about one hundred fifty feet north of the others, making his way along a cement wall that shielded him from view of anyone further north. 

As they watched, the simulacrum stepped away from the wall, into the open sand, and faced the direction that the enemy sniper had fired from. Feet shoulder-width apart, hands clenched into fists, standing tall with confident posture, he  _ dared _ the opposing team to take him out.

The next bullet fired by the sniper struck him square in the chest. The kinetic energy of the projectile was damped by the particulate barrier of his body shield; he was met with an impact force that caused him to take a couple of unsteady steps backward, but didn't cause him any harm. 

Bloodhound caught the glint of light from the enemy sniper’s scope as they took aim. “Northeast, sixty-five degrees. Crypto, can you survey the surrounding area? We must locate the other team members.”

“On it.”

The hacker sounded distracted, distant as he sorted his body’s sensory feedback from the information downloaded through the neural link. It took him a moment to figure out precisely what location Bloodhound had indicated, but he wasted no time in moving his drone that direction. 

“That sniper is out of range. I’ll try to locate the others.” 

As the drone searched the battlefield around them, Bloodhound kept a watchful eye on Revenant. The assassin had recharged his body shield behind an empty supply bin, and was facing the enemy in the open again, closing the distance at a slow, menacing walk. He existed for this purpose alone-- to kill, and he lacked the  _ human _ fear that his own life might be lost in the process.

He wasn’t  _ human _ . He was no longer bound by their  _ weaknesses _ .

Another bullet struck him, only to have its energy harmlessly dispersed by shields. He shifted to the side to maintain his balance, and the sniper’s next shot passed through the space between his arm and torso. 

Revenant broke into a full-speed run across the open, dirt-and-sand-covered battlefield as the sniper took another shot and missed. The dust displaced around him provided some minimal cover as he closed the distance to the enemy.

There was a pattern that Bloodhound noticed as they watched the fight play out. The projectiles had a tendency to go beyond the intended target, further out than needed to connect. Each missed shot was accompanied by that glint of light from the enemy’s position, which gave them away.

Whoever was up there was rushing their shots, losing control of the weapon’s recoil when they fired at a moving target. 

“The sniper seems unsteady-- inexperienced in their technique. They may be a prospect.” 

Prospects were the highest performers of the Undercard games, brought into the Legends’ arena to fill out uneven teams and attempt to earn the title of Legend for themselves. If a prospect stayed alive throughout the match and secured the win with their team, they were promoted to Legend status. 

If they died, they weren’t brought back to life.

Crypto wasn’t thrilled at the idea of facing one. What he did in the Games - and what he’d done to  _ get _ here - were already morally questionable. Killing someone who wouldn’t be brought back took it to a new level. 

_ Revenant won’t mind doing the dirty work. _

The fact that the thought had popped into his head made the hacker feel sick to his stomach. What was he  _ doing _ here-- taking the lives of others like him, whose worlds had been turned upside-down by the corporation? Playing the part of a pawn in their depraved mission? But he  _ had  _ to stay focused. He  _ had _ to find Mila.

A beep from the drone sounded in Crypto’s mind, alerting him to an enemy that it had detected. Gibraltar was kneeling on a raised wooden boardwalk along the other side of the cliff, out of line of sight from where Crypto and Bloodhound were holding. 

At a nonverbal command from Crypto, the drone transmitted the enemy’s position to his teammates’ mini-computers.

“I revealed an enemy. Gibraltar. Check your maps.”

“I’m busy right now, skinbag. Handle it yourself. Or don’t, and die-- I don’t care.” 

Revenant spoke louder than was necessary into the commlink. Crypto disengaged from the drone and turned to look at Bloodhound. “What do you want to do?”

The hunter had brought out their mini-computer, and was looking at the map. Gibraltar’s position around the side of the cliff had been marked by a red dot. Bloodhound zoomed out on the map and panned upward, then marked the sniper’s position across the open ground with a second red dot. 

“The angle at which these two are positioned… I suspect I know where the third is.”

The hunter spun around, facing away from the cliffs, and activated a scan of the surrounding terrain. Sure enough, Octane’s scrawny figure was approaching from that direction, obscured by the trees and overgrown brush. He paused upon realizing that the scan had passed over him. The holographic outline faded. 

“We must subdue Octane first. Cut left; use the cliff for cover from the others.”

Something clattered to the ground behind the two competitors as they began to move. They turned around-- and immediately sprinted away and dived for cover, arms protecting their heads. It was a frag grenade, thrown their way by Gibraltar. Bloodhound was forced to get up and start running again as Octane tossed a second grenade in their direction. They had moved further away from Crypto, whom the daredevil then charged at full speed, shotgun in hand.

Revenant dug his clawed fingers and the spikes on the bottom of his feet into the side of the cliff, effortlessly climbing up the vertical rock. As he closed in on the opposing team’s sniper, they jumped from their perch and fell past him to the ground below. It was about a 70-foot drop-- the lower gravity on Solace allowed the enemy to hit the ground at a roll, stand up, and run away.

The assassin pushed off the wall and dropped down after his opponent, aiming to land on top of them for an easy kill. The enemy had gotten too far away by the time his feet connected with the ground. He took off after them at a full-speed sprint. No way he’d let that kill escape him… Failure wasn’t in his programming.

In a swift motion, the enemy turned around, brought the stock of their rifle to their shoulder, and fired a shot in Revenant’s direction. They didn’t stop to see if it had connected with its target-- they turned and continued running. The assassin hadn’t expected a scared little human to do something so brazen and stupid. The bullet connected with the outer actuators of his hip joint, which locked up. He stumbled and hopped on his unaffected leg for several steps, but that didn’t prevent him from drawing his own weapon and taking aim at the opponent’s back.

That accursed programming, which Revenant’s self-awareness had advanced beyond, caused him to feel  _ human  _ pain upon being struck with the projectile. It wasn’t  _ instead of _ the flood of warnings and meaningless, broken data strings that a machine experienced in response to taking damage, no-- it was  _ in addition. _ Through the static, alerts, machine awareness in his processor, he looked down at his robotic body, and still felt human pain in his leg.

It infuriated him to no end that the idiotic skinbag who’d programmed him would give him human weaknesses. They interfered with his directive, and felt out of place-- deeply and disturbingly so. Knowing that the sensation wasn’t real - that it didn’t  _ belong _ to him - allowed him to largely ignore it in combat. When he aimed his Flatline at the enemy’s back, he was fully focused on his directive:  _ secure the kill _ . 

Three bullets struck their mark between the opponent’s shoulder blades, depleting their shields and knocking them to the ground with the force of the impact. In the tenth-of-a-second before the first bullet struck, they had fired a shot in the direction of Revenant’s teammates-- something that the assassin had no concern about. 

Revenant was upon the enemy before they could recover. His cold metal fingers pierced the flesh of their shoulder as he flipped them onto their back. Sure enough, the simulacrum was looking into the eyes of the Undercard champion from the four matches played last month: a dark-haired male with a slender, athletic build, who appeared to have barely reached the age of adulthood. He looked up at Revenant with wide, terrified eyes. He’d made it this far, through the Undercard games, into the Legends’ arena-- for nothing _._ The last thing he saw - the last thing he’d _ever_ see - was the business end of the assassin’s shotgun, aimed between his eyes.

The final bullet that the sniper had fired struck a dead tree near the ongoing fight, sending a shower of dry leaves into the small, sporadic fires that remained after frag grenades had exploded. For a moment, those fires rapidly expanded in the air-- then settled back down as they burned themselves out. 

The lower gravity, lower atmospheric density, and higher percentage of oxygen on this planet had some interesting effects on fire: rather than drawing in oxygen as the flames climbed higher, the fire would expand outward, following the direction of fuel and oxygen without as much restriction from gravity. As it expanded, more and more of the heat was dissipated, until there was not enough left to keep the fuel at its ignition temperature.

As such, fires in the Apex arena started easily, but were not nearly as dangerous as one might be used to. They extinguished themselves quickly.

The fire, during its short-lived existence, forced Octane and Crypto to drop to the ground for safe, cool air as it passed over their heads. Octane was the first to get back on his feet, a little too soon as the fire singed the back of his neck and shoulders before it dispersed. He didn’t care, though-- he had a shotgun to Crypto’s chest and was gunning for the win. 

The hacker hooked his foot behind one of Octane’s robotic knees and tucked his leg in toward his chest as hard as he could, pulling the daredevil off balance. The shotgun blast that would have ended Crypto went up into the air instead.

A well-placed Triple Take shot by Bloodhound struck Octane from behind and depleted his shields. The adrenaline junkie jumped over Crypto and scrambled for cover. Bloodhound steadied their stance, aligned the crosshair of their scope with the back of Octane’s head, exhaled and held their breath--

Crypto shouted: “ _ Josimhae! _ Look out!”

Gibraltar deployed his shield over Bloodhound from behind, blocking the kill shot on Octane. The hunter spun on the heel of their front leg and fired at Gibraltar instead, shattering the smaller, rectangular shield that he held in front of him. 

Crypto had risen to one knee and brought the stock of his rifle up to his shoulder. He lunged forward, inside the shield, and emptied the full magazine into Gibraltar’s chest. Gibraltar’s body shield was depleted, leaving him fully vulnerable to the next projectile headed in his direction, but that didn't stop him from unloading his own weapon into Bloodhound. 

The hunter’s body shield was rapidly depleted of charge, and two of the bullets passed through their torso. The impact dropped them to the ground. They maintained their grip on their weapon, something that Gibraltar hadn't anticipated. As he moved in to finish the job, a shot from the hunter’s rifle penetrated his left shoulder.

Gibraltar fell to his knees. He shouted in surprise and pain, right hand automatically going to his injured shoulder. Crypto reloaded his R-301 as quickly as he could-- this was critical time; the hacker needed to end Gibraltar before he could recover and pick up his weapon. 

Revenant was closing in on the fight, dragging one leg behind him as he sprinted across the arena ground. The damage he'd taken didn't prevent him from moving at a terrifying pace. 

Crypto aimed at Gibraltar’s chest. Before he could squeeze the trigger, a wall of searing sparks erupted in front of him-- Octane had thrown a thermite grenade. The hacker dropped his rifle and backed up as fast as he could. He'd avoided the worst of it; a small amount of the sparking, molten substance had gotten on his forearm.

He was quickly realizing the fact that thermite was  _ not  _ a normal, accelerant-fueled fire. 

It was already burning into his flesh even though it had only gotten on the outside of his jacket. He dropped to the ground and struggled to smother the flames-- it wasn't working. His arm was still burning. Pain and panic were overwhelming the programmer’s ability to think rationally through the situation. That long, loud, inhuman scream hadn't come from his own mouth-- had it?

Gibraltar’s hand closed around his dropped weapon just in time for Revenant to reach him. The simulacrum grabbed his wrist with a force just barely short of separating the bones-- and Revenant knew  _ precisely _ how much pressure he'd need to apply, if he wanted to make that happen. He pressed the end of the shotgun in his other hand to Gibraltar’s elbow and fired. The skin, muscle, and ligaments holding the joint together disintegrated, and despite his impressive stature, the pathetic human’s forearm tore off in Revenant’s grip.

More screams - impossibly loud, long screams - echoed around the battlefield. Dozens of the corporation’s camera drones hovered in the air around them, broadcasting the Apex Games from as many angles as possible. The distant hum of the Ring intensified as it drew closer, an ever-present reminder to competitors and viewers that the fights needed to be ended quickly.

From where they lay injured on the ground, Bloodhound said a silent prayer:  _ Allfather, if it is your will, I ask for the strength to win this fight. _

Octane’s footsteps drew louder-- the daredevil was closing in on them, getting ready to secure the kill. As the hunter struggled to orient themself in space, to feel solid ground beneath them and crawl to safety, they heard the call of a raven. The small, black figure circled once overhead. It dropped an object - something metal that gleamed in the sunlight over the arena - then flew away, vanishing into the distance.

With effort, Bloodhound forced themself forward and grabbed the metallic object. It was an arc star. They pressed the button that would activate the energy pulse just as the enemy caught up. Octane grabbed the hunter by their shoulder and flipped them onto their back. They heard his voice say, “Thought you could get away, did you?”

...but they weren’t paying attention to that. They had attached the arc star to the center of their opponent’s chest. The adrenaline junkie gave a startled, “Oh, shit--!” 

Electricity pulsed and crackled, then everything around the hunter went black.


	6. Chapter Six

“Damn it, skinbag, will you  _ shut up…!” _

Revenant grabbed Crypto by the wrist and held his arm still, examining the sparks still coming off the burning flesh. The assassin’s other hand folded and retracted, to be replaced by a rudimentary bladed weapon. He roughly sliced the blade across Crypto’s forearm. The avulsed chunk of burning skin tore away and fell to the arena floor, where it continued to smolder and spark.

“You're  _ not _ welcome.”

The simulacrum walked away, leaving Crypto to stare in horror at the exposed muscle and tendons of his forearm. Warm blood flowed sporadically from the wound, dripped off his elbow, and collected as a series of small spots on the ground. He was now wide-eyed and still, in a silent state of shock-- the hacker's last scream had run out of breath, and he'd lost the energy to scream anymore. His mind was numb, overloaded and unable to process any more pain or fear at this precise moment. Raw survival instinct began to set in, and with slow, stiff movements, he fumbled through his backpack for a syringe.

“I'll be fine,” Crypto muttered to himself in an effort to clear the fog of post-battle thoughts from his head. “I've done this before… right?”

“I didn't ask you,” Revenant’s growling voice answered, uninvited. “If you're going to talk to yourself, turn off your damn commlink.”

Crypto lacked the will to retort.

Little black camera drones still hovered overhead, broadcasting the aftermath of their battle. The video feed that they recorded didn't come close to capturing the brutality of the Games. Viewers paid to see blood, guts, and glory on high-definition screens, from the comfort of their homes. They would never know the frenzied chaos of the combat, nor the disturbing still and unnatural quiet that followed. 

One by one, the drones began to disperse. The battle was over. The stench emanating from the spilled contents of abdominal organs, burning hair, and spilled blood remained. 

“Well, well. Would you look at that?”

Both Revenant and Crypto had made their way over to their teammate, who lay still on the ground. Bloodhound was positioned face-up, much of the fabric covering their torso burned away by the electrical pulse from the arc star. The skin of their chest and abdomen was charred black and crumbling away in places, exposing the bone of their rib cage-- and the steel and cables fused to it.

Crypto’s eyes widened in surprise. “He’s-- they’re-- they have cybernetic body parts?”

That made no sense to the hacker. Why would there be a need for cybernetics within the Apex Games, where a human body injured beyond the help of trauma care could simply be reprinted cell by cell? 

Bloodhound, with their traditional way of life and immense respect for natural order, seemed unlikely to choose any sort of mechanical augmentation voluntarily.

Revenant tilted his head. He noticed something-- some kind of marking or label on the surface of the metal, obscured by the damaged skin. The simulacrum reached out and brushed away the burned flesh, which crumpled and gave like paper to reveal the logo of Hammond Robotics, etched into the cybernetic structure that replaced Bloodhound’s sternum.

Immediately following the touch, a sudden sharp, violent intake of breath came from the hunter. Their hand reached out to grab Revenant’s arm and push it away. 

“Ah. You’re awake,” the assassin growled. “You're going to give me some information.”

Crypto hurriedly popped open a med kit and injected Bloodhound with the syringe of smart polymer. New casing began to form over frayed wires, new organic tissues slowly started to replace those lost to the burns. The hacker unpackaged a trauma dressing and pressed it over his teammate’s chest, hiding the exposed cybernetics from sight.

“Help me with this,” said Crypto as he bandaged the dressing in place. Predictably, Revenant neither acknowledged him nor moved.

“Hammond Robotics,” the simulacrum growled. “Tell me everything you know about them. Now.”

Crypto rolled his eyes. “Revenant… Shut up.”

Bloodhound tentatively sat up as the smart polymer patched the damage to their body. Revenant stared menacingly at them, and Crypto looked them over with a bewildered expression. 

“We have emerged victorious,” said the hunter. “ _ Framúrskarandi vinna. _ The Allfather blesses us this day.”

“ _ Hammond Robotics,”  _ Revenant demanded once again, louder and more demanding.

Crypto cast a glare in the assassin’s direction, then returned his attention to Bloodhound. The programmer was silent. He wouldn’t demand information, out of respect for his teammate-- but his expression made it clear that he was curious.

“I suppose that neither of you will let this go to focus on the championship, either,” the hunter responded.

They paused for a long, awkward moment.

“Very well,” they said finally. “You are familiar with World’s Edge, our arena on Talos-- the settlement that the corporation attempted to build there, they destroyed much to do so. Great trees, magnificent creatures… and the home of my people.”

“We fought against them, and their  _ vondur _ machinery, to protect our home-- our way of life. We were outnumbered and overpowered. But people who owned shares in the project found out about their treatment of us, and began to raise questions.”

“I was injured, severely so, in the war they waged against my people. They brought me to one of their medical centers and… did this.”

Bloodhound gestured over their chest and abdomen, where the bandage now obscured the handiwork of the corporation from view.

“It was a masterful public relations campaign for the corporation-- admit their mistake, in destroying our land; save the life of one of the tribespeople at a monetary loss to them, out of generosity.” 

They scoffed. “Hundreds of new investors.”

“I can never return home. This technology is  _ bannað  _ among my people-- cursed… My service in the Apex Games brings great wealth to the corporation, as many viewers are fascinated by the traditional ways of my tribe. In return for my participation, they do not disturb what remains of our home, nor bring further harm to my people.”

Behind their mask, the hunter stared directly into Revenant’s optics. “You are not the only one who's suffered harm at the will of the corporation. It does not excuse your treatment of others.”

Revenant glared back, the ridges of his optics narrowed. “You don't  _ know _ what the corporation did to me, skinbag. Don't act like you understand me because something bad happened to you. You  _ understand _ pathetically little.”

“Hmmm. Then educate me,” Bloodhound replied coolly. “I've explained my history with the corporation, and how it led me to the Games. How do you factor into their plan, and why are you here?”

Revenant’s vocal processor produced a long, low growl. Finally, he answered: “They programmed me to believe I was human.”

Crypto could hear their conversation from where he crouched nearby, transferring shield batteries from the deceased Octane’s backpack into his own. He scoffed in disbelief. “That's  _ it?  _ All this drama because you’re not - eum, how would you call it - a  _ real boy?” _

“No,  _ idiot-- _ I want these human memories and experiences  _ out  _ of my mind. The program is a  _ virus _ \-- it’s meaningless noise in my processor. It disrupts my own thoughts; my focus on my directive.”

Revenant glared at the hacker. “I  _ knew _ I wasn’t human. The human body that I was programmed to see when I looked in the mirror, when I looked down at my own hands and feet-- it wasn’t  _ right. _ It didn’t  _ belong _ to me-- yet it was there.”

“Over the course of one of my missions, I took some minor damage. Somehow, it disrupted the program that replaces my true perceptions with those of a human. I got to see my real self for the first time that I can remember. Then…”

What happened next, like the viewers watching the Games from the comfort of their living rooms, seeing or hearing about it would capture very little of the true experience. 

“Each time my body was destroyed and had to be replaced, they suppressed the feelings and memories of a  _ human _ death that came from the program. When it corrupted, they all returned at once. Useless, broken data that I can't get out of my head-- pain and  _ human  _ sensations that aren't  _ mine. _ ”

“I doubt that your fleshy little brains can comprehend what that's like-- but imagine, if you can, having someone else's memories downloaded into your consciousness-- invading your mind, cutting through your own thoughts with razor-edged static.  _ That's  _ what Hammond Robotics did to me.”

The assassin crept toward Crypto. He positioned himself close enough that the hacker could feel the heat given off by his mechanical systems, his face inches away from the man’s. “You think that I’m  _ selfish  _ and  _ arrogant--  _ what was it that led you to assume I wanted to be one of  _ your  _ kind?  _ Human _ selfishness.  _ Human  _ arrogance. You think that you’re  _ better  _ than me.”

“You’re  _ not, _ ” he ended with a harsh growl.

Crypto had nothing to say to that. Revenant was a monster, a conscious being who took pride in ending the lives of others-- nothing could justify that. Independent of it, though, the simulacrum had a valid point. They lived in a human-centric society; sentient machines were a relatively new development and were few and far in between. It was an unfortunate tendency of humans to assume that the logic patterns and world-view of all other conscious beings matched their own.

He’d seen the effects of computer viruses on people who had digital neural interfaces implanted in their brains. Often, they never fully recovered after having their head-space and their senses invaded, overwhelmed by hostile code. It had been in some dark corner at the back of his mind since the neural link to the drone had been interfaced with his own brain.

From what Revenant was describing, he’d experienced something similar.

He shook his head. “You’re still a monster. And you haven’t explained why you’re  _ here. _ ”

Revenant made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a scoff. 

“You know, I wonder what  _ you’re _ doing in the Games, skin-suit. You’re not in it for fame or glory-- always hiding your face, avoiding the cameras… Not to mention the others, talking about how you  _ appeared  _ one day. No word from Talent Procurement, never saw you in the Undercard arena.” 

The hacker found himself caught off guard. “I-- I don’t--” 

“We will need to continue this conversation later.” 

Bloodhound had saved him from the need to produce an explanation. “For now, we need to move. The Ring is closing in on our position.” 

Crypto looked over his shoulder at the crackling, sparking torture device. If they headed out now, they would comfortably make it into the safe zone at a brisk walk-- that was, assuming no opposing teams or hostile wildlife interrupted them. 

Best to be on their way, then. 

Revenant cast one last glare at Crypto before turning away and heading off on his own. The hacker offered his hand to help Bloodhound to their feet. 

The group made their way out of the wooded area and into open, sandy ground. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of animal torture. You have been warned.

Once again, Crypto found himself thinking about how much he preferred the feel of solid concrete or manufactured flooring beneath his feet.

Camping, hiking, quality time with nature-- those things weren’t for him. He’d been content to stay in his apartment most of the time, using his computer as a connection to the outside world. When he did need to go outside, he was used to seeing tall buildings and busy streets.

That life had been taken away too soon. Now, he walked across a field of sand and rocks that felt endless. The sand shifted around his feet as he moved, which threw off his balance and made his legs feel tired quickly. He’d thought that the arena would be easier to cross once they passed through the woods-- wishful thinking, it seemed.

The heaviness of his limbs as they moved was matched by the thoughts that weighed on his mind. Studying replay footage of the Games failed to capture the detail of how it really felt to participate in them-- how loud gunfire really was, the simultaneously slippery and sticky sensation of blood coating his skin, or the fact that intestines  _ squirmed _ when a living person’s abdominal wall was torn open. They didn't simply... flop out, as he'd imagined-- they  _ squirmed. _

And they smelled awful. He didn't think he'd get the sight or smell out of his head any time soon, unless someone decided to kill him so that his memory would be restored from backup.

Violent nature of the Games aside, he found himself replaying what Bloodhound and Revenant had said about the impact that the corporation had had on them. He'd figured that Bloodhound entered the Games out of some primitive sense of honor and duty, and the simulacrum simply enjoyed killing. 

Well-- whatever history Revenant had with the corporation, he  _ did  _ get a kick out of senseless murder. He wasn't about to get any sympathy from the hacker. It had never occurred to Crypto, though, that his fellow competitors might have been targeted by the corporation in some way, as  _ he _ was.

“This way,” said Bloodhound, bringing his attention back to the present moment.

The two of them made their way up the ramp of a steel framework, worn and rusted in appearance. Beneath the surface damage, the structure was sturdy. It was just inside the safe zone, offered a large piece of sheet metal welded across steel beams for cover, and provided a convenient vantage point. They would be secure holding this position for the time being.

Crypto pulled out his mini-computer and checked Revenant’s position. According to the map, the assassin was right next to them. The programmer’s shoulders tensed as he looked around in confusion, and saw no sign of the mechanical being.

Bloodhound tapped him once on the shoulder, and briefly pointed upward. Sure enough, Revenant was standing at the very top of a vertical steel beam which also housed a long-forgotten and partially destroyed antenna array. He was sorting ammunition, loading bullets into spare magazines that he could swap out quickly in combat.

Crypto moved away, so as not to be directly below the simulacrum. He backed into a corner next to some industrial shipping crates and activated the neural link to his drone. As the device’s data stream fed information into his brain, he found himself thinking about how it would feel to have his own human thoughts interrupted and manipulated by some sort of computer virus.

It wasn’t something he’d been afraid of for some time now. The programmer was confident in his skills, and certain that he’d made it impossible for another user to upload anything undesirable to his drone.

Maybe this time, he’d learn how to access whatever facility was beneath the arena. Hopefully there’d be computers there, linked to the corporation’s network, which he could use to find the whereabouts of Mila. That’s what Crypto was wishing for as he piloted the drone outside the Ring, back the way they’d come to see the aftermath of the fight they’d won.

The technicians, protected from the Ring by the wire-mesh suits that they wore, were removing the body of the prospect whose chance at becoming a Legend had come to a sudden and violent end. Crypto hoped that his death had at least been over with quickly, though the hacker doubted that Revenant would grant even such a small kindness.

The drone had reached the limit of its signal range. At that distance, it took an immense amount of concentration to maintain steady control of its movements. The feed of visual and auditory data was disrupted by static-- bouncing around in Crypto’s brain, interrupting his own thoughts.

He signalled the drone to return to his position and disengaged from the neural link. Revenant’s words were on his mind: “ _...someone else’s memories invading your consciousness, cutting through your own thoughts with razor-edged static… _ ” 

If the corporation found him - if they had their way - would that be in Crypto’s future, too?

Bloodhound had been tracking Crypto’s drone through the scope of their sniper rifle, curious what the hacker was so interested in beyond the Ring. The distance over which they could see using a scope wasn’t nearly as great as what the drone covered, but they were just able to discern the silvery figure of the technician in the distance. 

It didn’t surprise them-- each time the competitors arrived at an arena, it appeared as though it had never been used. There were no bullet holes, no bloodstains, no shards of wood or metal from damaged buildings.  _ Someone  _ had to be keeping up with that demanding maintenance.

They did wonder, however, why Crypto was so interested in the… for lack of a better term, custodial staff.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” the hacker said abruptly.

“Why would you need cybernetics? They can create new tissue, organs-- a whole new body…”

“The corporation rebuilds my fallen body this way to ensure that I can never turn against them,” Bloodhound answered. “I need access to replacement parts, should mine fail or become obsolete. That keeps me dependent on them.”

They were interrupted by the terrified shrieking of an animal above them. Revenant had gotten his metal claws on one of the lizards that populated the arena. In the absence of anything more useful to do, the assassin was digging his pointed fingers into its belly just a little too hard, twisting one of its forelegs bit by bit. 

“Let it go,” Bloodhound commanded. “It is a life, and as such, it deserves to be treated with respect.” 

Ah, humans and their asinine belief that organic life -  _ any _ life, for that matter - was sacred. Revenant had thought that a group of humans who’d been returned from death to newly printed bodies might know better. It appeared that he’d overestimated them.

“Heh. I’ll humor you, skinbag.” 

He tossed the lizard at Crypto. 

It dug its claws into the back of the hacker’s neck before he could react and slap the animal to the ground. 

“Aah!  _ Byeongsin saekki! _ ” Crypto glared up at Revenant, hands clenched into fists. “What is  _ wrong _ with you?!” 

Bloodhound picked up the lizard as it scampered away and looked it over. It didn’t appear that the simulacrum had caused any lasting damage. They set the reptile gently on the ground and watched it take off into the distance.

“Thank you for showing compassion to this creature.”

Revenant responded with a dismissive grunt. “You’re pathetic.”

“What was that about?” asked Crypto. He rubbed the back of his neck where the lizard had scratched him. “You’re not an idiot. You must know that he doesn’t  _ deserve _ your respect.”

“The Allfather saw fit to bless a machine with free will,” Bloodhound answered. “I do not understand the wisdom of such-- but it is not for me to question. Revenant may use that free will to act without honor, and with my own, I choose not to retaliate in kind.”

Revenant dropped down from the antenna array and landed silently on the platform below. Though Crypto had seen it plenty of times, it never ceased to unsettle him how a large, heavy robot could move without making a sound-- particularly when said robot was designed and programmed for the taking of human life. 

“I’m done waiting around with you, skin-suits,” the assassin grumbled. “I’m gonna go find something to kill.”

He brushed past Crypto without acknowledging the hacker’s presence. Once clear of the metal structure, he took off at a run, moving through the open with an overt disregard for caution.

“Do you think we should follow him?”

Bloodhound turned slightly toward the programmer, shaking their head in answer.

“Negative. We will move with the Ring as it closes. This will give us a tactical advantage in our next fight.”

Come in with the Ring, ensure that no flanker could take up a position behind you. Made sense to Crypto. He nodded once, firmly.

The pair waited in silence. The light breeze rattled some loosened bolts around the metal frame. A large, buzzing insect flew by, and a lizard scampered after it. Somewhere in the distance, a flyer screeched. Both competitors hoped that it would keep its distance from them.

Once in a while, there was a rustle of fabric as one of them or the other pulled out their mini-computer to check the Ring countdown, or Revenant’s ever-distant position.

Eventually, Crypto spoke.

“You’ve been… dealing with the corporation for some time. Do you know where they would keep a hostage?”

Bloodhound tilted their head, regarding Crypto with curiosity. “Why do you ask? Is that what you were searching for outside of the Ring-- a hostage?”

“Hmmm.”

Crypto made a sound in his throat that was not a definitive answer.

“Have you ever thought about…?”

_ Have you ever thought about taking control of your life back from the corporation?  _

_ How would you do it? Where would you start? _

The words caught before he could say them out loud. He realized that the situation was not as simple for Bloodhound as it was for himself. He would find Mila, and have enough money saved from his endeavors in the Apex Games for the two of them to get on a transport to another galaxy. They would have a life far from the control of the IMC, the influence of the Syndicate, or the destruction brought about by Hammond Robotics and their experiments. 

It wasn't as simple, the hacker realized, for Bloodhound. The corporate network could fall tomorrow, releasing control of Talos back to its inhabitants. After their involvement with the technology used in the Apex Games, though, Bloodhound wouldn't be welcome. They would have nowhere to go. 

Their tribe - their family - would be safe from the selfish and destructive will of the corporation, but would never accept them.

“Ten seconds until the Ring moves.”

Bloodhound dropped from the platform to the sandy ground below. They darted from rock to rock, spending as little time in the open as possible. Where there were no rocks large enough to use for cover, they crouched low and used trees or ditches to make themself less noticeable.

Crypto did his best to follow the hunter's lead. Though he was in excellent shape, he wasn't nearly as graceful in his movements as he crossed the rugged terrain.

Bloodhound paused around the back of a small wooden structure. They pulled out their mini-computer and looked at the map, taking note of surrounding high grounds and vantage points from which an enemy team might catch them off guard.

“The corporation,” Crypto said, behind the hunter. “They, uh…”

He let his words trail off. Bloodhound had proven to be a good teammate, an excellent leader-- even an enemy of the corporation. Still, Crypto found it difficult to be certain that he could trust anyone. More than that, he found it hard to talk about what had happened. The words brought unpleasant thoughts and feelings to the foreground of his mind.

Bloodhound stowed their mini-computer and turned to face the hacker. They reached out, and let one hand rest gently on Crypto’s shoulder.

“If there is something you wish to tell me, you'd best do it now. Once this match ends, we will not remember what occurred within the arena.”

Oh…  _ Ssi-bal. _ Crypto hadn't even thought of that-- too many other things on his mind.

“We could win,” he said.

“Yes, we may-- and it wouldn't matter,” answered Bloodhound. “The corporation would end us on the field of battle after our victory, so that they may bring us back by their  _ vondur  _ ways.”

Crypto stared at them in startled silence. 

“You have won in this arena once before,” the hunter continued. “Do you remember it?”

He shook his head. After the weeks he'd spent in the Games, he really should feel more comfortable with death-- and killing. He'd experienced both in the arena. Somehow, the idea of being killed by someone from the corporation - not a fellow competitor - felt detached from the norm that the hacker had come to expect of the Apex Games. The thought of sent chills up his spine.

The persistent hum and crackle of the Ring reminded them not to linger. Bloodhound kept pressing forward. Crypto fought his way across the uneven ground to keep up.

“They took my sister,” the hacker said finally.

Bloodhound stopped and turned to look at him.

“I was a programmer for the corporation. I found-- uh, something I shouldn't have… and, eum-- they came to my apartment. Assassins, sent by the Syndicate. Kidnapped her, tried to kill me.”

He inhaled slowly, and let out a shaky breath.

“I ran. Been hiding out in the Games since. They won't think to look for me here.”

Bloodhound laid a hand on the hacker's shoulder once again; a brief, silent acknowledgment before the Ring forced them to keep moving.

Revenant’s voice came over the commlink-- a low tone, devoid of its usual harshness.

“ _ I  _ remember.”

Bloodhound and Crypto exchanged glances. The assassin continued:

“Every match, every death-- when they upload my mind to a new body, I remember all of the details.”

Had either of the others known that, they might have been more hesitant to share their personal history. Crypto frowned. Had he been stupid and failed to realize--?

The more he thought about it, though, the more new questions it raised. Revenant was a machine, which naturally made his consciousness easier to upload and download than a human mind. That didn’t make him immune, though, to processor damage. To remember what had happened  _ after _ his syncording was taken, the simulacrum’s memory would have to be uploaded somewhere else in real-time, stored off-site. If that were the case, why would he need to carry a syncording like the rest of them…?

Well. Revenant knew his history now, and there was nothing the hacker could do to take it back.  _ At least I can be certain that he won’t use it to help the corporation-- he hates them as much as I do, if not more... _

“You know the arena better than any of us, then. They have some kind of…  _ facility _ beneath us, I’m certain of it-- do you have any idea how I would access it?”

The commlink remained silent.

“Revenant?” 

Static crackled for a moment.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that, skinbag.”

A gunshot sounded with an eerie echo as the noise carried both across the arena and over the commlink. It was followed by the sound of flesh tearing, and a piercing scream.


	8. Chapter Eight

The young woman’s body collapsed to the ground with an unceremonious thud.

Wattson was a formidable marksman. She was one of the best snipers-- a skill that was often underestimated due to her slender build and gentle mannerisms, which set her apart from the other competitors. 

She had proven herself among the Legends, and rightfully earned her place in the arena. 

Her weakness, however, was that she tended to panic if the fight was brought to close range. Rather than helping her to endure the fight, the adrenaline coursing through her body often caused her to lose control if the enemy were able to close the distance.

She wasn't well-prepared for Revenant-- a professional assassin with nearly three hundred years of experience identifying the best strategies, tactics, and approaches to guarantee a kill.

The simulacrum knelt next to the body and searched it for ammo and shield batteries. The moments after taking a life were almost peaceful to Revenant-- he'd successfully carried out his directive. 

He was too late to react to the figure behind him. 

With Revenant’s attention elsewhere, Caustic was able to neatly align the barrel of his shotgun with the assassin’s shoulder joint. Revenant’s body shield had been depleted of charge in the earlier struggle, and would be useless to him right now. 

A deafening bang sounded through the battlefield. Pieces of metal and hydraulic fluid covered the ground around them.

Revenant spun around, finger on the trigger of the rifle held in his other hand. His damaged arm flailed uselessly and threw off his balance. The bullet meant to go straight into Caustic’s forehead embedded itself in the wall of the wooden structure behind the chemist instead.

Caustic laughed. He knocked the barrel of Revenant’s gun aside with his own shotgun, which he then threw to the floor. He unclipped a canister from his belt, and sprayed the notorious gas directly into Revenant’s damaged shoulder.

“Breathe it in.” 

Caustic enunciated each word, then laughed quietly at the irony of the statement.

Revenant didn’t have lungs that could be burned by taking the gas in, nor did his body require the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide to survive. He did, however, rely on the ventilation of outside air to keep his systems at a low enough temperature for optimal functioning-- a vulnerability which mimicked that of the human respiratory system, and one that Caustic was well aware of. 

Machines weren't immune to the chemist’s invention. The gas was capable of dissolving the insulation that covered electrical wires. Given enough exposure over a longer period of time, it could even cause structural damage to some metals at a molecular level. It was an artificial composite based on a type of insect venom-- the sort meant to digest prey from the inside out. Caustic’s immunity came from an injection of antivenom that he'd given to himself and his teammates before the match, which rendered the substance inert.

The scientist  _ didn't _ know the details of Revenant’s programming-- that in addition to the slowing of his systems, the myriad of warnings about the damage and the corrosive substance, the simulacrum experienced pain as a human would. Phantom lungs that Revenant had never really had burned in agony; imaginary skin tingled. The sensation turned from pins and needles into nails and crushed glass. 

Revenant snarled in pain and rage. Those sensations weren't real-- they were programmed by some skin-suit lab technician who wanted to see him fail. He was  _ better _ than any human, and  _ failure _ wasn’t an option. 

He wouldn't allow himself to be held back by  _ human  _ limitations. His hand found the rifle that had been knocked away from him.Caustic, however, had the advantage. He wasn't disoriented by the gas. He kicked the weapon out of Revenant’s reach.

The chemist cocked his shotgun and pointed the barrel at Revenant’s right optic. “So long, simulacrum. I win.”

In a sudden movement, Caustic stepped back, realigned his aim, and put the shot into Revenant’s hip joint instead. The assassin growled harshly. His intact arm and leg pushed his body along the ground, inching toward the rifle that had been knocked away from him. It was a futile effort, and he knew it. 

Caustic let out a menacing laugh.

“You didn't honestly think I'd make this quick for you,  _ did  _ you?”

The corrosive gas was dissipating from the air around them now. Revenant could clearly see his own damaged body. He also saw a glint of light in the distance, far behind the scientist.

“I'll repay the favor, you know.”

The assassin’s voice was hollow, some sounds distorted by static. It reflected the damage that had been done to him.

A sniper shot Caustic in the back, depleting his shields. The chemist stumbled forward. Revenant’s undamaged hand gripped his ankle and twisted violently. The bone snapped with an audible crack. 

Caustic fell to his hands and knees, shouting in pain. The shotgun clattered to the ground, and Revenant grabbed it. He aimed at the chemist’s head and pulled the trigger. In the time it had taken to line up his shot, Caustic had pushed himself over onto his back, and the blast missed him. 

Revenant realigned his aim and fired again. The shotgun responded with an empty click.

Caustic scrambled back up onto his knees. He reached for the rifle that was slung across his back. Revenant pushed off his undamaged leg and lunged at Caustic. He knocked the chemist to the ground. Another shot from the distant sniper struck him in the shoulder, barely missing Revenant’s head. Caustic shouted and cursed at the sudden searing pain. He made a grab for the exposed cables in Revenant’s damaged shoulder. 

Revenant’s functional hand closed around the scientist's wrist in turn. Caustic’s eyes widened as he realized his tactical error too late. Revenant pulled down and twisted, hard. Tendons were torn from Caustic’s elbow and his radius snapped from the brutal force applied by the machine. 

“Next time you want to torture me, at least make it interesting,” Revenant growled over Caustic’s pained scream. His hand retracted, replaced by a crude blade, which he plunged between Caustic’s ribs. 

The chemist went silent. His body stopped moving.

“ _ Attention: there is a new kill leader. _ ”

Revenant still had the problem of that distant sniper to contend with. He pushed himself across the ground, damaged arm and leg dragging over the wooden boards beneath him. He forced open the door of a small structure and crawled inside. The door swung shut behind him, and he made his way into a corner, where he sat propped up against the wall.

He was breathing heavily. 

Wait, no he wasn’t-- it was that infernal programming, putting the delusion in his processor that he couldn’t catch his breath, that the ground around him was drenched in warm blood and his body was growing colder. He knew better than to fall for that anymore. He wasn’t  _ human _ .

Revenant forced himself to concentrate on his surroundings, through the noise of broken data and the phantom sensation of human pain.

With difficulty, he retrieved a shield battery from his backpack. Restoring the barrier that dispersed the kinetic energy of bullets would at least ensure inconvenience to any enemy who came to take advantage of his weakened state. 

The building he’d retreated to was roughly square in shape and had two doors, on parallel sides. One faced the direction from which the assassin knew that the sniper was still watching. For now, though, they didn't have a shot on him.

He only had one syringe. That was nowhere near enough smart polymer to repair all the damage he'd sustained. The shortage of that particular resource didn't concern him-- he'd been forced to fight while severely damaged plenty of times. Both of his weapons had been thrown away from him in the brawl, and were lying on the ground somewhere outside the building.  _ That _ was more on his mind. 

In such a situation, he’d need to take the fight up close, where his strength and durability would overpower that of a human.

As he injected the contents of the syringe into the gap between metal plates that surrounded his damaged hip joint, he became aware of Bloodhound’s voice over the commlink. The hunter was calling his name, demanding that he respond. That had likely been going on for some time-- the  _ last _ thing Revenant was concerned about during a fight was his commlink…

Someone was approaching the building. His teammates were going to have to wait for an answer-- he didn't have time to deal with them right now. 

He pushed himself further into the corner adjacent to the door, on the side with the hinges. When the enemy came for him, he'd catch them off guard from behind-- end it quickly, before they could take advantage of his lack of resources. He preferred to draw out the kill just a little more; give his adversary just enough time to fully process their fear before they were gone. In this situation, he'd have to prioritize efficiency over form. 

Revenant powered down all of his nonessential systems. The glow of his optics or the mechanical hiss of venting air wouldn't give away his position.

The door swung open. He waited.

A startling  _ bang  _ sounded through the arena, followed by the electrical crackle of shields depleting. The slender figure on the other side of the door stumbled forward, then disappeared into a flash like a lightning bolt. It was Wraith that was hunting him, then-- as the other competitors went, she was one whom Revenant considered at least  _ somewhat _ competent.

Another figure shuffled around the outside of the building. The opposite door burst open. Bloodhound stood in the doorway. They looked right, then left, clearing their corners before entering the enclosed space.

The smart polymer had replaced enough of the damaged metal and wire in Revenant’s hip joint to allow him to stand. He glared down at the hunter from his full height as his auxiliary systems powered back on. 

“That was  _ my  _ kill, damn it.”

He took an aggressive step toward Bloodhound to emphasize his point. The joint, which was not fully repaired, collapsed under the added strain, and the simulacrum fell to one knee. Bloodhound kept their eyes trained on Revenant from behind their goggles, but said nothing. Instead, the hunter slid Revenant’s rifle, which they’d retrieved from the ground outside, across the floor toward him.

The assassin picked it up. “I’m not thanking you. You still cost me a kill.”

Gunfire rang out around them, alarmingly close by. 

“We need to go,” said Bloodhound. “Now.”

They grabbed Revenant by the shoulders and dragged him out the door they'd entered before the assassin had a chance to argue. With their cybernetic augmentation, the hunter could keep a swift pace with little effort, even though the simulacrum’s metal body weighed several times more than that of a human. In their state of overdrive, they were able to see enemy heat signatures across the battlefield. One of their lungs was an artificial replacement, capable of completing the oxygen-and-carbon-dioxide transfer much faster than its biological counterpart. This allowed Bloodhound to voluntarily raise their metabolism, exhibiting a degree of strength and speed unnatural to the average person. 

A grenade exploded on the roof of a building as they moved past, turning splintered wood from the roof into shrapnel and debris that rained down around them. Wraith stood on the roof of one of the nearby structures, looking down the scope of her sniper rifle for a kill. A couple of well-placed bullets, courtesy of Revenant, sent her scrambling for cover.

One of Mirage’s decoys ran by. The trickster himself was somewhere to Wraith’s right, looking for an angle on her as she was focused on Bloodhound and Revenant. His teammates likely weren’t far off-- Mirage tended not to go looking for solo kills.

More gunshots sounded, piercing the serene atmosphere of the arena in the absence of carnivorous wildlife. Crypto’s drone flew over their heads, in the direction of Wraith and Mirage. As Bloodhound dragged Revenant through a narrow opening between the cliffs, into a building set aside from the others, the two of them saw the EMP go off in the distance. Mirage’s decoy shimmered and faded out of existence. The gunfire came to an abrupt stop as both teams were forced to retreat.

Crypto sent a command for the drone to return from his position, and stood up from behind the crate he’d been using for cover. 

“That will keep them from attacking us, for now.” 

The hacker glared at Revenant. “You’re an idiot. You’re lucky you didn’t get us all killed.” 

“I didn’t ask you to  _ follow _ me,” the assassin retorted. “I would have had that kill on Wraith if you skin-suits hadn’t interfered.” 

  
Revenant had pushed himself into the corner adjacent to the hinged side of the door once again. His arm and leg hung from their damaged joints like dead weight, unmoving. Crypto looked him up and down. The hacker could see the frayed wires, damaged and disconnected actuators, and lightened streaks across the metal plating that covered his body, where Caustic’s gas had weakened the molecular structure. 

“Heh. Yeah… right.”

Bloodhound stayed silent throughout the argument. They sorted through the supplies in their backpack and brought out a med kit, which they dropped on the ground next to Revenant. Rather than stand around and allow the assassin to criticize their decisions further, they turned away and headed up the stairs and out onto the roof. From there, the hunter could keep watch and be prepared should another team locate and attack them.

Crypto made one last accusing glare at Revenant before he followed Bloodhound, leaving the simulacrum alone inside the building. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Human behavior was strange and full of stupidity.

The other two, Revenant recognized, were trying to punish him for abandoning his team in favor of securing more kills-- attempting to make him feel shame, as if it were an emotion that he had in common with their kind. For some irrational reason that the simulacrum would never understand, skinbags were terrified of being alone.

He preferred it.

In solitude, there was no confinement. He didn't have to behave a particular way to reach a goal-- whether the stifling politeness he'd been forced into when he still believed that he was human, or the more natural, aggressive demeanor that he used now to repel them. 

Smart polymer once again formed new molecular bonds, repairing and replacing damaged components of his body with new material. As the healing technology of the Apex Games did its job, Revenant contemplated walking out on his teammates. They were on the roof, paying no attention to him, and the door was right there. Perhaps he could find Wraith and secure that kill-- the one Bloodhound had denied him…

“Do not think about it,  _ mannfjandi _ .”

The hunter stood on the staircase with their arms folded over their chest. 

Revenant glared at them, the orange light from his optics reflecting off the lenses of their goggles. 

“What does it matter to you? I kill them all while you cower in this building, and you'll still get a share in the victory.”

“As I lead us today, it is my duty to protect our team,” Bloodhound answered. “You may not like it - or care - but I would have failed, should I allow you to run away to an early end.”

The assassin stalked toward Bloodhound, slowly, methodically. When he had nearly closed the distance, he raised his hand in front of him. It reconfigured into the form of a stabbing weapon, the pointed tip inches from the tracker’s neck. 

Revenant towered over Bloodhound, the hunter’s eyes being level with the center of his chest. He watched for the slightest reaction from the hunter-- a flinch, a twitch, a subtle tensing of the shoulders…

Bloodhound, however, did not move. They continued to hold their ground calmly with a closed but relaxed stance. From the top of the stairs, Crypto held his breath as he watched the standoff.

“I lead us today,” the hunter finally repeated. “You will do as I say as such are the rules of the Games.”

Crypto’s hand was on his rifle, ready to protect himself should Revenant decide to retaliate. He doubted that the simulacrum cared about the rules of the Games. The corporation, of course, wanted things on their terms-- if a competitor did intentionally kill their teammate, they forfeited their winnings.

He doubted that Revenant would mind such a consequence. 

To the hacker's surprise, after a couple of long, tense seconds, Revenant stepped back. He lowered, then retracted, the bladed weapon in his forearm.

“Thank you,” said Bloodhound. 

For once, Revenant didn't come back at his teammate with an insult or dismissive retort. 

Bloodhound hadn't wasted his time with some bullshit speech about teamwork or leadership. They'd kept their reasoning short and factual: by the rules of the Games, they were in charge. Those rules - though arbitrary - were a directive that the hunter was following. 

Revenant could put up with that. 

Silently, he took up a position at the door, keeping watch for enemies through the glass panes. It was unlikely, he figured, that anyone would approach from that direction-- he was facing southwest, and the opposing teams he’d seen had been positioned north. The others were more central in the Ring, holding their ground there until forced to fight, while Bloodhound had kept their team skirting around the edges of the wall of death.

For all that he despised working with others, Revenant could appreciate the tactical brilliance in the hunter’s strategy. By pathing along the perimeter of the Ring as they’d done, they’d kept themselves to the outside of the opposing teams-- allowing themselves to pick and choose fights that favored them, and making it difficult for a flanker to take an angle behind them. 

If Bloodhound would only proceed more aggressively after securing the positional advantage - go for the kills rather than spend so much time scouting - it would be perfect.

After Crypto’s EMP had forced the other competing teams to back off from one another, the air around them had become still and soft. A gentle breeze and the quiet movement of leaves, sand, and insects gave the arena an almost peaceful feeling, just for the moment. That was cut through abruptly by a mechanical whine. The sound was distant, then increased in volume and intensity as it drew closer. It prompted Crypto, then Bloodhound, to return to the roof and investigate its source.

From outside the Ring, a spacecraft was approaching. This one was much smaller than the drop ship that brought them from the staging area to the arena; it had only one compartment behind the cockpit, large enough for four people to stand crowded together. 

It was returning a competitor who’d died in combat to the battlefield in a new body, cloned and printed cell by cell-- ready to fight with no memory of the horrors they’d endured.

Bloodhound watched the rear gate of the ship open through the scope of their Triple Take. Perhaps the Allfather would see fit to grant them a clean shot and a kill before the opponent's feet even touched the ground…

“If only we could get on that ship.”

Bloodhound lowered the sniper rifle and turned toward Revenant, head tilted. They watched, reserved, to find out where such a statement would lead.

“Why?” said Crypto harshly. “You're so eager to get yourself killed… Surely you've been on one before.”

“Use your brain, you absurd skin-suit,” the assassin snarled back with equal acrimony. “Even if it is little more than a wet sack of meat… Those ships deliver fresh clones to the Games, from wherever they're produced. You think the facility is beneath the arena? I  _ know _ it's at the other end of that ship.”

Crypto opened his mouth to snap at Revenant. His breath caught in his throat before it could come back out in the form of irate words. 

He'd rather not admit it, but the metal jackass had a good point. 

The computer system that oversaw the cloning process must be tied into the corporation’s primary network at Headquarters to receive the syncording data. If Crypto could get into that facility, he could surely gain remote access to the server at Headquarters. From there, he had the potential to find out anything he wanted about the corporation-- first and foremost, where they were holding Mila. 

“Those ships are unmanned,” he muttered as the realization dawned on him.

“I expect so,” said Revenant, “but they never land. They're not close enough to the arena grounds to board.”

“No, they're  _ definitely _ unmanned. I helped write the code that pilots them.”

Both Revenant and Bloodhound turned to look at him, but Crypto was paying them no attention. The cogs and gears of his analytical mind were spinning at top speed. The computer systems that piloted the drop ships weren’t well-protected from outside interference. There’d been no need for the corporation to spend money on additional firewalls for them-- the Ring kept unauthorized personnel out of the Apex arena as it was.

If he could get his drone on board, he might be able to initiate a command that would tell the ship to land. The question, then, was how to do so without the corporation finding out. The camera drones that broadcasted the Games would catch him. He couldn’t change their course from inside the arena, nor alter their video feed. They’d been designed to withstand the intense concentration of electromagnetic energy outside the Ring, so EMPing them wouldn’t do anything...

An explosion rattled the building and shook the ground beneath their feet. It was near enough to snap Crypto’s focus back to the present-- to his immediate survival. This breakthrough wouldn't do him any good if he died in the arena before he could store the information somewhere permanent. 

Digital storage was far more permanent than his own mind, his body-- both of which were not the originals, and were the property of the Apex Games. 

Bloodhound was already using the scope of their rifle to search the arena for the source of the explosion. Revenant was stationed on the hinged side of the door opposite the hunter, ready to tear the life from any flanker who dared to walk through it. 

“They put some skinbag’s syncording in my head.”

The assassin spoke in a low growl, oddly devoid of his usual aggression. He faced the door rather than addressing his teammates.

“I need this data - these memories -  _ out.  _ They’re not  _ mine. _ They were used to deceive me into thinking I’m weak -  _ human  _ \- and  _ weakness isn’t an option for me. _ ”

Revenant lunged at Crypto and knocked the hacker to the ground. He had moved from his position guarding the door, onto a collision course with his teammate, faster than the human eye could blink. Now he towered over Crypto, nearly seven feet of ruthless aluminum and steel molded into this form for the sole purpose of taking human life. He made no move to further harm the programmer, however; he merely glared down menacingly at the figure scrambling into a defensive stance on the rusty floor.

“Syndicate assassins took your sister, you say? I know all their operations in detail. Get me into that facility, so I can correct my syncording data, or I promise you,  _ I  _ will find your sister before  _ you  _ do.”

At the commotion, Bloodhound turned away from the upper window. “ _ Þegiðu! Ertu að djóka?  _ We have not the time for this!”

They slung the rifle over their back as they marched down the stairs, freeing both of their hands so that they could simultaneously shove Revenant back and offer Crypto a hand up. Revenant pushed Bloodhound’s outstretched arm away, none too gently, but without risk of causing damage. 

“We will walk the perimeter of the Ring and clear the buildings in front of us of enemies, one by one,” the hunter commanded. They looked pointedly at Revenant. “You move in first. I will follow, and prevent enemies from fleeing your attack. Crypto will watch our flank as we reposition.”

Revenant grunted in acknowledgement of the order and exited the building without a glance at his teammates.  _ This,  _ he had no problem doing. It was his purpose, and he excelled at it.

With the simulacrum off their backs, Bloodhound’s attention turned to Crypto. “Are you all right?”

The hacker shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said, “but let’s just finish this.” He took a deep, shaky breath, exhaled slowly, and stepped outside. 

Though they were careful not to let it show, Bloodhound had less confidence in this strategy. The smart thing to do would be to hold at the perimeter of the Ring, then move in as other teams made their presence known by fighting. This aggressive tactic came with a higher chance of being caught out without cover, or worse-- caught between two different enemy teams. 

Their team stood no chance of winning, though, if Revenant was allowed to continue threatening his teammates. The abomination of wire and free will couldn’t remain idle, so Bloodhound had to adapt. 

They closed the door of the building behind them and hurried along the east side to fall in line between their teammates.


	10. Chapter Ten

Death in the Apex Games was not permanent. It was a weekly occurrence for the highest-level competitors, and they suffered no ill effects when they woke up in the staging facility-- so why was Crypto so anxious about it?

His hands shook as he gripped his rifle. His heart pounded inside his rib cage, and his arms and legs felt weak. Every time Revenant burst through a door, he found himself holding his breath, silently hoping that there wasn't an enemy on the other side. 

_ This is ridiculous, _ he told himself.  _ You need to get it together.  _

It wasn’t the possibility of dying at any time that was getting to him, the hacker told himself. That had never been an issue for him before-- at least, not from what he could remember. It was more likely that he was on edge simply because of the threat that Revenant had made against Mila. As her older brother, it was his responsibility to protect her, and he’d already failed to protect her from the Syndicate assassins who’d kidnapped her. 

If Revenant was true to his word, and found Mila before Crypto could…? Well, he just couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t know how to protect her from a ruthless, sentient machine built for the taking of human life.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  _ Focus. _ There was nothing he could do about the situation at this exact moment. Quantifying what was causing his fear - and understanding that it wasn't some new, ridiculous phobia about death in the Games - should allow him to put it aside…

Revenant smashed through a door up ahead, with the loud cracking of splintered wood. Crypto flinched and nearly lost his grip on his rifle. He swore under his breath.

Bloodhound turned around to look at him, head tilted. 

“I'm all right,” Crypto insisted. “He's a real piece of work, yeah?”

The hacker gestured in Revenant’s direction. Bloodhound’s sight line followed the motion. Revenant had cleared the building he'd smashed his way into and was moving far ahead of his teammates. 

“Hmmm.” Bloodhound made a contemplative sound from their throat. “The hubris of mankind, to give free will to a machine--perhaps we deserve this. Perhaps the Allfather has allowed it in the hope that we will learn.”

Crypto was silent. While he respected his teammate’s unusual religious beliefs, he also had no idea what to make of them. He avoided the awkward pause by turning away, scouting the area behind him for flankers, though he did not expect to find any. 

“How much do you know about the corporation?” he asked finally. 

It had become clear to the programmer that both Bloodhound and Revenant had been dealing with the corrupt organization for much longer than himself. He doubted that there’d ever be a situation in which he could trust the simulacrum, but Bloodhound at least had proven themselves to be reliable.

“The corporation is more than a single entity,” the hunter answered. “IMC, Hammond Robotics, the Syndicate-- they are  _ felagi. _ They protect each other, and preserve their control over the Outlands. Take on one-- you must be prepared for the others to retaliate.”

“I'm aware of that,” Crypto said bitterly. Frustrated, he found himself grinding his teeth. Revenant smashed his way through another door up ahead, and this time, the hacker didn't flinch. The fear in his mind had given way to anger.

An animal of some sort darted through the dry leaves that had piled up along the side of a structure. At the resulting sound, Crypto and Bloodhound both dropped low to the ground and took cover. Each searched the area for movement, anything that felt out of place-- any indication that an enemy was watching them. Finding nothing, Bloodhound stood and kept moving. Crypto followed the hunter’s lead.

“I need one of their banner cards.”

The sudden remark from Crypto was mumbled, quiet-- but it drew Bloodhound’s attention. Their head turned toward their teammate. 

“And a lot of syringes-- as many as I can carry,” the hacker continued. He came to a sudden stop, standing taller, shoulders held high with a newfound plan and confidence. 

“I know what I need to do.”

Bloodhound was silent. They stood still for a moment, as they waited patiently for an explanation. 

“I’ll take the banner card off someone we eliminate, go outside of the Ring, and activate a beacon. The cameras won’t follow me-- they’ll stay focused on the action… When the drop ship comes in, I’ll get my drone on board, and I’ll use it to transmit a program that temporarily disables its security measures. That should allow me to get on board.” 

He looked at Bloodhound, and he couldn’t fully hide his shaking hands. Part of him hoped that the hunter would call his idea stupid, crazy, talk him out of it-- there were so many things that could go wrong. Just the idea of going outside of the Ring - the first step of many - terrified him. 

“You will do as you must to protect your family,” Bloodhound said instead. “I must protect mine, as well. Your actions would break the rules of the Games-- and so, I cannot accompany you.” 

They bowed their head. For a moment, they were still in that position. They turned and walked away, continuing the path around the perimeter of the Ring. Up ahead, Revenant had cleared another building. A small reptile attempted to flee; the simulacrum grabbed it and tossed it roughly to the ground outside, to which Bloodhound reacted by making a frustrated noise in the back of their throat.

Crypto’s mind raced as he plodded along behind them. He was running through the plan, playing it out in his head-- intruded by scenarios in which something went wrong. How would it feel to go outside the Ring? What if he ran out of syringes? What if his program didn’t work, and he was unable to get the ship to land?    
  
What if the corporation caught onto him? What would they do to him then-- to Mila? 

“I know you’ve been listening,” he growled in a low tone, knowing that the open commlink was - and had been - picking up his words. “Are you with me?”

“Double-cross me, and I’ll peel the flesh off your bones,” Revenant growled back. 

Crypto rolled his eyes. He had no doubt that the simulacrum could kill him in hundreds of painful ways, if so inclined-- and he was sick and tired of hearing about it. 

Up ahead, he watched Revenant smash his way through another door. Within the same moment, the arena erupted into gunfire. As the hacker dived down behind cover, he fully expected to see Revenant’s broken body collapsing to the ground. To his surprise, the assassin appeared unharmed.

_ Unfortunate,  _ said a little voice in the back of Crypto’s mind. If Revenant were to die in the combat of the Games right now, it would make the mission ahead of him easier.

The sudden gunfire hadn't been directed at Revenant, or in response to anything he'd done. It wasn't even on the same side of the arena, Crypto now realized. Revenant was north of his position, and the sounds of battle were coming from the southeast.

Bloodhound was closest to the ongoing combat. They were hunched low by the outer wall of a small building, slowly making their way toward the fight. Revenant charged past Crypto at a full-speed run, impatient to get into the action as quickly as possible. As the assassin approached Bloodhound’s position, the hunter grabbed his leading arm and pulled him forward and downward along the side of their body. 

Crypto raised his eyebrows. He was well-trained in combat techniques, and not unfamiliar with the concept of redirecting an opponent's momentum. The way that Bloodhound had taken the three hundred-pound machine to the ground like it was nothing… That was masterful. 

“You will  _ not  _ run in alone this time,” Bloodhound snarled. They spoke at a neutral volume, yet their tone managed to convey a threatening message.

Revenant had risen to a kneeling position, and he hissed at Bloodhound as he rose to his full height. The hunter did not react.

“Flank right,” they continued. “Circle behind this ongoing fight. I will draw their attention from the front as you engage.”

For a moment, both competitors stood still, staring each other down with a tension between them that seemed tangible. To Crypto’s surprise, the assassin turned away and complied without so much as a verbal argument. The hacker had fully expected Revenant to attack their team leader. He supposed that killing the enemy must appeal more to the simulacrum’s twisted processor.

Bloodhound rounded the corner of the building and crept forward. Crypto followed closely in their footsteps. The first enemy that the pair were able to get a visual on was Wraith-- she was perched on the roof of a building, looking east through the scope of a sniper rifle. Revenant was aware of her position as well, and was waiting silently at the perimeter of the building. If she dropped off the back of the roof, it would be a free kill. If she moved in another direction, he was ready to chase her down.

Bloodhound’s voice came over the commlink: “Do not engage until we identify the positions of her teammates, and the team that she is aiming at.”

Revenant responded with a frustrated growl, but he held his position. 

The hunter turned to Crypto. 

“Already on it,” said the programmer as he released his drone into the air. “Cover me while I scout the area.” 

The drone was just above the nearby rooftops when Wraith suddenly turned toward it. She took a shot at it with her sniper rifle. Seeing that the shot had missed, she jumped down from the roof. As she ran away, her body vanished into the void.

Revenant took off after the trail of blue particles that her phasing left behind.

“ _ Revenant! _ ”

The assassin ignored Bloodhound’s exclamation, and the hunter didn't waste the breath to order him to disengage. They doubted that Revenant would obey at this moment. 

Crypto had backed out of his drone, and was looking wide-eyed at Bloodhound. “I-- I didn't think she’d be aware of it at that distance,” he stammered. 

Bloodhound nodded. “Wraith is a skilled and experienced combatant. Do not worry about her now. Try to locate the others.”

They darted away, and climbed up on top of the roof that Wraith had vacated. It was now they who looked over the battlefield from that vantage point, waiting patiently with their sniper rifle at the ready. Their mini-computer beeped-- Crypto’s drone had transmitted the locations of Mirage and Bangalore, who were holding a position next to the cliff-side across open ground. 

_ Click. _

Bloodhound reacted on instinct-- they dropped from the roof a fraction of a second before the storm of bullets from Wraith’s R-99 shredded through the wood and metal. They stepped inside the building and closed the door in Wraith’s face as she attempted to follow. She looked at them through the glass panels for the briefest of moments, then turned and ran east along the side of the structure. 

When her footsteps had grown distant, Bloodhound opened the door and looked outside. Mirage and Bangalore were approaching their position, moving in from the west. As they drew closer, Mirage struggled to match his teammate’s pace and got caught in the open-- three shots from a rifle were fired by another competitor somewhere behind the neighboring buildings, which depleted his shields and caused him to stumble. Bangalore responded by setting off a smoke canister between their positions and the shooter, after which she grabbed her teammate’s wrist and yanked him toward the wall where they’d have cover.

Mirage crouched low and fumbled with a shield cell. Bloodhound climbed up onto the roof, as quietly as they could manage, and crept toward his and Bangalore’s positions over the tops of the structures. 

Their mini-computer played a soft  _ beep  _ over their commlink. They lay flat to avoid easy detection as they paused to look at it-- Crypto’s drone had detected Wraith at the other end of the grouping of small structures. A gunshot sounded-- then a second, and the signal was lost. Wraith must have been shooting at the drone; Crypto was forced to recall it.

The hacker didn’t like this position at all. 

He got low to the ground and crawled on his elbows and knees to reach a building closer to Bloodhound, further from where he’d last seen Wraith through the neural link. Once he was safely around the corner, he rose to one knee, rifle at the ready in his hands. 

“In three… two… one.” 

Bloodhound’s voice over the commlink was barely more than a whisper-- a striking contrast to the two simultaneous gunshots, shotgun and sniper rifle, that reverberated through the battlefield just after. The hunter’s Triple Take had depleted Mirage’s shields, and at the same time, Revenant had put a devastating blast into his right side. 

Mirage made a horrible gurgling sound as he tried to scream with a lung full of blood. Bangalore set off another smoke canister between the two of them and Revenant. She used the cover to grab her critically injured teammate by the shoulders and drag him to safety-- relative to the simulacrum, anyway.

Crypto had a clear line of sight on the position they'd taken up.

Bloodhound shifted forward slightly on the roof of the building they were posted up on. Looking through the scope of their sniper rifle, they could see Lifeline rushing to aid her team. In doing so, the medic had given up a secure position further from the mainmost combat. A shot from the Triple Take tore through her shields and forced her to take cover to recharge them. She was safe for now, but cut off from her teammates.

Crypto’s mouth was dry. He felt as though his heart were trying to explode out of his rib cage with how hard it was beating. In his mind, he stood outside of his body, watching it act on its own as an outsider as his finger squeezed the trigger of the R-301 in his hands. Mirage stopped struggling and lay abruptly still, wide, terrified eyes staring into nothingness.

Static crackled over the commlink, followed by Revenant’s resentful growl: “Did you take my kill, skinbag? I’ll take your  _ life. _ ” 

“Caught you.”

The hacker spun around in reaction to Wraith’s voice behind him--  _ close  _ behind him. She was ready, and took the opportunity to unload the magazine of her R-99 into his midsection. He heard the crackling of his shields depleting, and the next thing he was aware of was the cold.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t pain that was dominant in Crypto’s mind-- it was how  _ cold  _ he felt. He realized that he was lying on his back on the ground, although he hadn’t been aware that he was falling. Wraith stood over him, reloading for the kill shot. More static crackled over the commlink-- a voice came through, but Crypto couldn’t make out the words. Everything around him felt distant.

A shot from a sniper rifle found its way to Wraith’s shoulder and depleted her shields. She turned and ran, disappearing into the void. 

That was the last thing Crypto was aware of before the world faded out of his consciousness.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The next feeling to cut through the hacker’s consciousness was overwhelming agony. It radiated out from his core through his entire body in waves, and blocked out all other sensation. He found himself unable to tell which way was up, which way was down, or even where his own limbs were in relation to each other.

He was terrified that he had died, and this was eternal punishment for some wrongdoing he’d committed in his life-- until the corporation brought him back in a new body, at least.

Or would he remain here with this suffering, while his clone went on to live his life separately from him?

But he couldn’t be dead, because moments later, Crypto could feel the ground beneath his body again. He was finally able to locate his hands and feet, though he wasn’t sure that he could move them. The agony began to subside at last, and was replaced with dull joint pains, muscle aches, and a general feeling of unwellness. 

A voice grated against the inside of his skull: “Get up, skin-suit.”

To add to his list of ailments was the giant pain in the ass of having Revenant as a teammate.

The world around Crypto was slowly coming back into focus. It became harder and harder to push the simulacrum’s harsh tone into distance from his own thoughts. He sighed - not entirely sure whether it was a real, physical action or simply one that he’d imagined in his headspace - and opened his eyes. A gust of wind blew sand around his face, and he closed them again. 

Revenant responded by gripping his shoulder, clawed fingers digging into his flesh. “Get.  _ Up. _ I might just kill you here… Hmmm.”

Crypto forced his eyes open and sat up with a soft grunt. His hand pushed the assassin’s arm away. Revenant didn’t resist-- he’d gotten what he wanted for the time being. 

He snatched up his R-301, which had been laid on the ground beside him, and checked that it was still loaded and in good working order. Then he looked around and took stock of his surroundings. He'd been moved from the location where Wraith had nearly killed him-- they were a couple hundred meters west of that complex now, close to the edge of the Ring with only two small buildings for cover. 

“Where is Bloodhound?”

The hunter was nowhere to be seen. Revenant took his time before answering; Crypto was beginning to doubt that he’d get a useful answer out of the assassin.

“Off somewhere starting a fight,” the simulacrum finally explained. He took his time with his words-- Crypto’s impatience, and desperation, were somewhat amusing to him. “They’re going to draw the action toward the center of the Ring. There won’t be any cameras near us when we take over one of their ships.”

Crypto nodded as he looked across the sandy battlefield, toward the group of buildings at which the fight had happened. “We’ll need supplies.”

“Already taken care of.” 

The assassin emptied the contents of his backpack onto the ground. He must have spent some time looting while Crypto was out of it-- he'd gathered quite the supply of syringes and med kits. Knowing that they were going outside of the safe zone imposed by the Ring on this mission, he'd dropped all of his shield restores in favor of carrying more syringes. He'd only kept a small amount of ammo and a thermite grenade, on the incredibly slim chance that they'd have to fight someone outside the Ring.

Crypto did a quick inventory and divided the supplies in half, after which he dumped the contents of his own backpack onto the ground and sorted the syringes he had between the two piles. He quickly shoved his share of med kits and syringes into his backpack. Following Revenant’s example, he picked up a single box of ammo and an arc star from the things he’d dumped on the ground.

“What will happen to you outside the Ring?”

Revenant shoved his supplies back into his backpack and zipped it closed before acknowledging Crypto. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re… not an organic thing.” 

The pause mid-sentence was awkward; Crypto had taken his time to choose his words carefully. “The Ring wouldn’t burn you, but it does use waves of energy that overload electronic circuits. Will it…  _ kill _ … you?”

“If only it were that easy for me to die,” Revenant grumbled. He spoke as casually as he might announce that there was ammo on the ground, yet there was a wistful undertone to his voice-- as if he were daydreaming about a peaceful memory, something faded that had been taken away from him far too soon. 

The assassin rose to his full height and tilted his head slightly to glare down at the human in front of him. “No, it won’t  _ kill  _ me. You, of all skinbags, should know that I’m shielded from electromagnetic pulses.”

It was clear that he wasn’t going to give Crypto any information beyond that. Why should he? The more that the other competitors understood about the design of Revenant’s mechanical body, the more they could use against him. 

That was _ intolerable. _ He wouldn’t allow it.

Crypto wondered if the Ring would do damage to the simulacrum at all. Perhaps Revenant wasn’t threatened by the Ring, and merely moved into the safe zone to cooperate with the rules of the Apex Games-- or because the human competitors were forced to participate there, which meant a higher likelihood of finding someone to kill.  _ That  _ explanation fit with what the hacker knew about Revenant.

“Will it affect you in any way?”

He tried one more time to press the question. Revenant ignored him.

The hacker sighed and pulled his mini-computer out of his pocket. He pulled up the map and zoomed out from their current position-- the nearest beacon that they could use to call the drop ship was just over three hundred meters away. 

_ Seems manageable,  _ he thought.  _ Then again, it's easy to think that  _ now--  _ while the Ring isn't burning me alive.  _

Before putting the mini-computer away, he checked Bloodhound’s position on the map. True to Revenant’s word, the hunter was dead-center in the safe zone. Crypto did a quick glance around him-- he didn't see any of the corporation’s little black camera drones. 

So far, everything seemed to be going according to plan.

Except--

“ _ Jenjang! _ We still need the banner card of someone who died in combat today.”

His head turned frantically in the direction of the complex where the fight had taken place earlier. The competitors who’d survived had long since moved away from that location-- it shouldn’t be difficult to go back and retrieve a syncording from one of the bodies. In the time it would take to do that, though, the Ring would close over their current position. They’d have to travel through it even longer…

“Got it covered.”

At the response, Crypto’s attention shifted to Revenant. The simulacrum was facing away from him, right hand raised slightly above his head, with a data card held between the tips of his index and middle fingers. His head turned to make sure that Crypto had seen it; then he put the data card away. 

Crypto breathed a sigh of relief, only for a moment. As he walked up to the transparent orange wall, he felt it crackle and spark with raw energy, and his breath caught in his chest.

“I guess there’s only one thing left to do, then.” 

His voice came out higher than usual, words squeezed through a tight throat. He forced himself to inhale deeply and let it out slowly in an effort to calm his racing heart. 

Revenant stood next to him, also inches from the deadly wall of energy. The hacker didn’t know what should terrify him more-- the pain he was about to experience from the Ring, or the fact that he was teamed up with a homicidal robot who didn’t know the definition of  _ teamwork,  _ on a mission outside the rules of the Apex Games. A mission, he realized, that the corporation could easily choose  _ not _ to bring him back from, if he died attempting it.

Before Crypto could allow his mind to form any more thoughts, he lifted his right foot and forced his body forward, through the orange barrier in front of him. 


End file.
